The Shadow Lamp - Day Three of the November 2013 CSFF Blog Tour

All good writing requires craftsmanship. Excellent writing approaches a work-of-art status. Without a doubt, Mr. Lawhead’s writing falls in this latter category. The Shadow Lamp is exemplary of that. For some on the blog tour, The Shadow Lamp was somewhat difficult to get into, it seemed to drag a little, or it had too many different points of view and contained narrative or scenes that were not pertinent to the story. I disagree with them all! How Burleigh got his men was pertinent because it added more depth to the villainy and genius of the character. Overlooking the theology, I reveled in the delivery of the didactic discourse of Gianni; it had me on the seat of my chair, figuratively speaking. I could see and hear him; I liked the scene and the discourse.
 

The only thing that I did not like, at first, was the two page moment by moment description of the contents of Mrs. Peelstick’s tray crashing to the floor. It was a slow-motion scene, and I’m not sure how else it could be delivered except in the manner of Mr. Lawhead’s. But it fit perfectly with the moment. The End of Everything was microcosmically represented, and I suspect that if EoE were witnessed from the outer edges of the cosmos, it might actually take on the qualities of a slow-motion scene in a movie.

Notwithstanding the superb quality of Mr. Lawhead's writing, I must ask, Should a Christian write what he intends to be ‘Christian’ fiction but also portray an unbiblical world-view? If you have read my Day 2 post, you would understand the rationale behind the question. When I say an unbiblical world-view, I do not mean a fantasy world or a science fiction world. There are those who would regard fantasy of any kind to be unbiblical, but they overlook that the Apocalypse itself makes use of fantastical (make-believe) creatures to convey the revelation of Jesus Christ to the seven churches of Asia Minor.

I should also define what I mean by a writer who is a Christian. Such a writer is one who has had a work of grace within such that he has repented of his sin and turned to Christ alone for salvation from that sin—its penalty, power, and someday its presence. Such a Christian holds to the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments as the authoritative Word of God, which means they are the final authority in all matters of faith and life, what he believes and how he lives. It means that though the story he writes is imaginary, it has its roots in a biblical cosmology over which there is a God who is truly sovereign and is glorified not only through his attributes of grace, mercy, and love, but also holiness, justice, and wrath.

If that definition of Christian is accepted, then it is difficult to see how a Christian can write a saga that does not reflect a biblical view of God, and still call it Christian. Perhaps Mr. Lawhead does not intend to proffer the Bright Empires series as Christian fiction, though I think he does. But I would not classify it as such. I would be able to read the series without angst, or at least a different kind of angst, if the author were a Dan Brown, Stephen King, or Stephenie Meyer—I would expect such an abiblical cosmology.

There is a metaphysical aspect to all fiction, and verily by definition, Christian fiction, to be truly Christian, should have a Biblical one.

 

 



Stephen R. Lawhead's Web Page
List of CSFF Blog Tour Participants
The Spirit Well on Amazon - Hardcover   Kindle

 
Thanks to Thomas Nelson for kindly providing a copy of The Shadow Lamp for review on the November, 2013 Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

The Shadow Lamp - Day Two of the October 2012 CSFF Blog Tour

Those who were troubled by the hazy theology of The Spirit Well (Book 3 of the Bright Empires saga), are undoubtedly seriously  alarmed by The Shadow Lamp. My own concerns were expressed in Day 3 of the October 2012 tour. They were tentative giving the author and the series the benefit of the doubt. I was holding out for the hope that the questionable theological trail the book was heading down might make a turn and settle on something that we can truly call Christian.

The problem centers on the philosophy/theology that underlies the thinkers of the Zetetic society, and especially one of its newest members, Giambattista Becarria, or Gianni. Gianni is a close confidant of Cassandra Clark, a paleontologist whose father Tony Clark has newly arrived in 1930’s Damascus where the headquarters of the society resides. Gianni is also a priest and a scientist. That combination wrapped up in one character represents a solution to a perceived incompatibility between science and theology. That solution for Lawhead, I think, is the quintessential motif that lies at the bottom of the story. The essay at the end of the novel gives weight to that idea, for there he draws on the example of Galileo who infuriated both the scientific and religious elite of his day by the heliocentric cosmos theory he was proffering. An appeal to the Galileo issue undergirds, perhaps covertly, the idea that entrenched old and ultimately false tenets tend to inhibit clear rational thinking – which for the most part is probably true. As we all know, Galileo was right, the church was wrong (on the geocentric/heliocentric controversy only). Today, the continuing effect of that episode marks one who holds to a creationist or intelligent design position as obscurantist, anti-intellectual, and utterly unscientific. Gianni represents what is supposedly a reasonable resolution of the tension. The problem is that the theology of Gianni is outright horrible. It is theology ex nihilo.

The Alpha Point

Gianni’s address to the Zetetic members includes this explanation: “We are the beneficiaries of complex processes that began before the Big Bang—the Alpha Point, yes?—processes that were put in place to produce active and independent conscious agents able to respond to their Creator in love. Thus, it follows that we are the reason for the Creation’s very existence. Consequently, the destiny of the cosmos and human destiny are bound closely together from before the beginning—the Alpha Point.” (p 324)

I personally do not have a problem with a Big Bang beginning so long as the Big Bang came out of (or perhaps into) nothing and was the result of God speaking it into being. By nothing, I mean truly nothing, a nothing that is inconceivable. The moment we conceive nothing we have conceived something, which attains physical attributes, even if such attributes include zero dimensions. The Alpha Point is before the Big Bang and therefore in terms of an ex nihilo Big Bang, the processes of the Alpha Point were concurrent with nothing – and that makes it a logical contradiction.

Logic aside, it is bad theology. It is deistic at its best. We get the feel that the processes are put in motion and allowed to run their own course with the full hope that they produce ‘active and independent conscious agents.’

The Omega Point

Gianni continues, “As there was a beginning, so there will be an end. In this, we believe that the Creator desires for time to run its course and not merely end at some arbitrary point short of the final completion He desires—a  destination known as the Omega Point—which is the perfected, harmonious, and joyful unity of all Creation in Him for the purpose of engaging in the ongoing creative activity of a redeemed and transformed universe—forever.”  (p 324-5)

I like this, but I suspect that my picture of this Omega Point (which I think is an accurately Biblical picture) may not be the same as Gianni’s. I’m very suspect of Gianni to be a universalist. Now, it is true, the final end of the universe is a recreation in which there will be perfect harmony and joy. The problem is that the Alpha and Omega Points are not rightly identified as the Son of God who is ‘the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last’ (Rev 22:13). The implication of that appellation is that the cosmos exists for Him and not for us, and that is precisely what the Scriptures tell us (Col 1:16).

But this is not what Gianni holds to; rather, we are the reason for the Creation’s existence. Granted, this is true in a formal way. The creation must exist so that we, the conscious, independent agents have a venue in which to respond to the Creator in love. But its ultimate purpose is not that there be a harmonious, joyful unity of a redeemed creation for its own sake. That unity is likewise secondary. The ultimate purpose of everything is to glorify Christ and to make him the focal point of praise and honor of every sentient and insentient thing (Ps 98:4-9; Is 55:12-13; Rom 14:11; Phil 2:9-11).

A more blatant flaw in the physicist priest’s theology regards the question as to whether or not the Creator controls the “illimitable interactions of conscious human beings with their individual environments, circumstances, and conditions, and in concert with their fellow humans.” (p 326) His answer is, “No....It is my belief that the future is not controlled in any way. To control the future would impose a deterministic outcome on the created order, thereby destroying both the freedom and independence of the freely interacting creatures it is meant to produce and, likewise, negating the very purpose for which the future and even time itself was created!” (p 327)

In Gianni’s eyes, creation is absolutely free from any control whatsoever by God. God made the creation, but has no say in its future. Imagine if that were true. It would mean the moment God brought the world into being, he had no clue what was going to happen from that very moment on. The best that he could do, he had already done, and that was to build into the creation potential for moving in the direction he would like it to go. At that point he could only sit back and hope that all would turn out well.

But it went south from the beginning. First Lucifer, then man. And it happened as a surprise to God, because he had no clue that it was coming. After all, having created a world so complex even at the quantum level and working so beautifully, how could all those ‘complex processes’ that were to enable the conscious agents to respond in love to their Creator fail? It was unthinkable! And yet, it was not good enough. Man could not keep one teeny requirement, and failed. God had failed. The world became a real mess, and mankind, all of it, was on its way to hell. What a pickle. God must have spent most of his time since the beginning of creation wringing his hands hoping things would get better.

But we see that God has intervened from the beginning at the point of man’s failure to live up to that potential. And the first action was not grace, but justice. God cursed man and the whole creation, which is still groaning under that curse. But no sooner had he pronounced the curse, he pronounced hope, the protoevangelium of Genesis 3:15. And God could not make such a pronouncement in faith unless he were going to do something that meddled in the affairs of men.

Gianni’s God is not truly sovereign. He is befuddled by the work of his own hands. One might object and say that God voluntarily took his hands off the wheel, and he did so because he was sovereign. Such a suggestion ignores the overwhelming evidence of Scripture, and a true Christian whose faith is based solely on the Scriptures must reject it. So should have Gianni. Sovereignty is not true sovereignty unless it controls in every detail from the smallest subatomic particle to the remotest galaxy. As such, it would be impossible for God to relinquish any control, it would be counter to who and what he is. To do so, would cease to be God.

But then one would say, If God controls absolutely everything then it was his purpose that Lucifer and man would fall;  if God does everything that is good, how can he be responsible for evil? Evil in itself, by definition, is not good. But the existence of it is good, because through it God brings the most glory to himself. His holiness, justice, and wrath are revealed as well as his grace, mercy, and love in a way that could not otherwise be known, and the expression of all of these attributes redounds to his glory.

Gianni may be an intelligent priest, but he is a theological fool.

Stephen R. Lawhead's Web Page
List of CSFF Blog Tour Participants
The Spirit Well on Amazon - Hardcover   Kindle

Thanks to Thomas Nelson for kindly providing a copy of The Shadow Lamp for review on the November, 2013 Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

The Shadow Lamp - Day One of the November 2013 CSFF Blog Tour

The Shadow Lamp, book four of the Bright Empires saga, continues the tortuous ventures of Kit Livingston and Wilhelmina Klug who ley jumped into an alternate universe in the inaugural book, The Skin Map. With the introduction of so many characters along the way, and the many plunges into an alternate world, the story becomes nearly as difficult to follow as the plot of The Maltese Falcon, unless one has a photographic memory or keeps a meticulous log.

Having said that, I found The Shadow Lamp a relative breeze compared to the previous three installments. Even so, I won’t attempt to summarize the story and provide a track of its individual characters. Jeff Chapman, who I hope is participating in this tour, typically outshines us all in that effort and I will defer to him.

Lawhead’s development of his characters is without question superb. To give two or three characters a personality that is noticeably distinct from one another, and to keep them consistent throughout the tale, is challenging. But to have so many as this saga has, each one recognizably unique and coherent, are marks of a very talented writer. It is true that there is a large amount of narrative in the story, which to a large part tells rather than shows. But the narrative provides an indispensable framework that enhances the interaction of the characters and the attendant dialogue. The interweaving of the two is smooth and a loss of one or the other would degrade the story.

Mr. Lawhead has conveniently provided a list of characters at the beginning of the book, which provides a reminder of who is who and a sense of what they are like. That list with a synopsis of what has taken place in the first three volumes is invaluable, even for those who have read the entire saga from the start.

One character on the Who’s who? list refers to Mina’s associate venturer in the Grand Imperial Kaffeehaus in Prague.

Engelbert Stiffelbeam – a baker from Rosenheim in Germany, affectionately known as Etzel.

Happy day (and alternate reality) it was for Mina, who very shortly after she screamed herself silent when she landed in fifteenth century Prague (unbeknownst to her at that moment), gathered her wits, and as Providence smiled, encountered Engelbert handling the reins of a mule drawn wagon slowly making his way into the city. Engelbert gave her a lift, and as she sat beside him, she took to assessing her newfound friend, and though she did not know it yet, her future business partner. But that first meeting – how quaint it was, and so full of promise that things might turn out well for Mina after all.

As the vehicle drew nearer, she realized that it was not, as she had first imagined, a simple field conveyance, but a much more substantial vehicle: a large, high-sided affair with a cloth top drawn over curved hoops to form a round tentlike covering. The wagon was pulled by not one but two rangy, long-eared mules, and sitting on the driver’s bench was a very plump man in a baggy cloth hat. She stopped and allowed the vehicle to meet her, whereupon it slowed and rolled to a halt.

“Hiya!” she called, putting on a chirpy voice in the fledgling hope that her damp and bedraggled appearance might be overlooked.

“Guten Tag,” came the reply, which sent Wilhelmina instantly back to her childhood and her German Grandmother’s kitchen.

The unexpected oddity of encountering a Deutschsprachigen on the road only served to deepen her already fathomless confusion. Bereft of speech, she could only stare at the man.

....the traveller put down the reins and stood, leaned over, and indicated the iron step ring projecting from the base of the wagon bed behind the front wheel, then reached down his hand. She placed a muddy boot on the step and accepted the offered hand, and was pulled effortlessly up and onto the wooden seat....

They proceeded in silence, rocking over the uneven road. Now and then, she stole a glance at the driver of the wagon.... The plump fellow presented an altogether unremarkable appearance—save for his face: smooth, pink as a baby’s, round, even-featured, with pale blue eyes beneath pale eyebrows, and ample cheeks that glowed in the brisk autumn breeze beneath the fine haze of a thin, stubbly blond beard.

It was the sweet-natured face that made him, she decided, for the countenance with which he faced the world wore an expression of benign cheerfulness—as if all that met his gaze amused and delighted, as if the world and everything in it existed only for his pleasure. He seemed to exude goodwill. (The Skin Map, pp 80-82)

Mina and Etzel became business partners of a thriving Kaffeehaus of the late middle ages. They become close friends as Mina’s first instincts about the man proved true – so true that Etzel remained ever faithful to her in the most trying circumstances that unfold in our present novel:

... He [Burleigh] moved into the room and lowered his voice. “Your associate has involved herself in my business and I want to know why. I want to know everything.”

Concern wrinkled the baker’s placid brow. “I do not understand.”

“My German is not so good.” Burleigh stepped closer. “I will try to explain. The Fraulein is interfering in my affairs. I want to know why. In fact, I want to know everything.”

“I think you should go now,” replied Engelbert, crossing his arms across his massive chest....

“We are not finished,” said Burleigh. He called to Tav.... “He refuses to talk. See if you can loosen his tongue.”

“Right, Boss.” Tav quickly took up a position in front of Etzel....With catlike quickness, his hand flashed out, seizing his victim by the throat. “Listen, you ignorant oaf,” he said, his voice a grating whisper in the startled baker’s ear. “My boss here asked you a question. I suggest you tell him what he wants to know. Or this could get messy....”

Engelbert fell back rubbing his neck. “I will tell you nothing,” he said. “You must leave now.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Tav’s fist smashed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

“As I have explained,” said Burleigh, “you will tell me what I want to know.”

The baker, glaring at his attackers from below lowered brows, rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “I will tell you nothing.”

“We shall see.” Burleigh nodded at Tav, who reached into a coat pocket and produced a set of  brass knuckles, making a show of fitting them to his hand and making a first.

“You think to hurt me?” said Engelbert. “You think maybe that if you hurt me this will make me tell you something? Is that what you are thinking?”

“I give you one last chance....”

Tav slammed his fist down on the wooden tabletop....

“Shame on you,” said Engelbert, with a defiant thrust of his chin. “I will tell you nothing.”

Tav lunged forward plunging his fist in the big man’s stomach. Engelbert staggered back, hit the oven, and fell onto his hands and knees. The Burley Man lashed out with his boot, striking again at the baker’s round stomach.

Etzel loosed a gasp of pain. He gulped air and held his side. “Yes, you can hurt me,” he said, his voice tight and strained. “Still, I say nothing.”

....His next blow caught the baker on the side of the head, opening a gash  above his eye. Blood spurted from the cut and splashed down the baker’s round, cherubic face....

“You can knock me down until I get up no more,” Etzel said, dragging himself upright. “But still I tell you nothing....”

“As Wilhelmina has placed her trust in me, I place my trust in God.” He cupped his broken chin. “God is my refuge and strength.” (The Shadow Lamp, pp 288-290)

And on it went. What a faithful friend. What an inspiring character.

Stephen R. Lawhead's Web Page
List of CSFF Blog Tour Participants

The Spirit Well on Amazon - Hardcover   Kindle

Thanks to Thomas Nelson for kindly providing a copy of The Shadow Lamp for review on the November, 2013 Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

Promoting Blaggard's Moon, Character and Dialogue - August 2010 Christian Fantasy and Blog Tour, Day 3

Every story that has compelled me to read it again typically included a peculiar character, sometimes more than one, so well-written that I could see him and hear him. Of course, the voice and looks that came to my imagination were often those I’d seen either in real life, or in a movie, or in a child’s story book. But the reason they came was because the writing invoked them, called them forth, and they came: Gollum, Puddleglum, Tom Fitzgerald (The Great Brain), the Scarecrow (The Wizard of Oz), John Carter (The God’s of Mars), Vernon Dursley, Rubeus Hagrid, Severus Snape, and Dolores Umbridge (Harry Potter), Jack Torrance (The Shining), Mr. Li (Plague Maker)...and others.

Blaggard’s Moon has such a character whose role is catalytic, yet without him, Polivka could not have told the tale of Blaggard’s Moon as he did...literally. Hammond Drumbone, known as Ham to his shipmates, if he ever existed in real life, would probably have been one of the most likeable pirates one could ever hope to meet (assuming one would knowingly want to be an acquaintance of pirates). Yet, he plays no role in the unfolding or outcome of events. But he adds such a flavor of drama that without him the story would not have been so fresh. How so?

Ham doesn’t come into the story in a flare, but quietly. The reader is commiserating with Smith Delaney and thereby becomes acquainted with Ham. Smith Delaney is skulking about trying to find things to dwell on other than his little predicament. You see, Delaney’s sitting on a pole (eight inches across, eight feet high) in the middle of a piranha-infested lagoon, abandoned by cutthroat pirates. Ham comes to mind and Delaney is struck by the pirate’s gift for telling a tale. Sometimes Ham filled in where there needed filling in but, as Delaney recalls, no one who listened really cared what was real and what was fabricated, it all was real when it came from the lips of Ham.

    Delaney could almost hear Ham talking now, a shade of melancholy in his deep voice, calling up both lonesome longing and high hopes at the same time, painting those word pictures like only he could paint them...He’d wait until there was quiet there under the decks, quiet but for the creaking of the ship’s timbers. And then he’d begin.
    Where did it all start? he’d ask. Where do such tales ever start? It was what he’d always ask at the outset of a story. Then Ham would answer himself. Deep in the darkest part of the heart, where men don’t know what goes on even in their own selves. That’s where every story starts.
    That Ham. He could tell a tale.

The reader is already charmed by Ham wanting to hear a tale himself, see if Ham lives up to the grand story teller of Delaney’s nostalgic memories. The paragraphs that follow do not disappoint. In those paragraphs, Polivka does a remarkable thing. He treats the reader with the blending of two voices and two tales, his own and Ham’s.

    “Dark and clouded it was,” Ham began one evening below decks, “with the sky iron gray and restless, the misty sea churning beneath it, throwing off white foam as far as the eye could see.” Smoke rose from his pipe as the men lay silent, hammocks in tight rows swaying together with the movement of the ship. “A storm was brewing, aye, and a big one, too. And then a thundering came, and it echoed, and then a voice came, carried on the thunder. But the voice was not like the thunder. The voice was high and beautiful. The voice was a girl singing sweet, and lingering on every note, a pure voice from far away, from out of the rain, out of the storm, out of a dream.”
    “How old was the girl?” a young sailor asked in hoarse whisper.
    “Don’t matter her age,” Ham answered easily.
    “What’d she look like?” asked another, bolder.
    “It was just a voice, gents. A disembodied voice, as they say.”
    “Ye mean she ain’t got a body?” a third asked, somewhat shocked. “It’s a ghost, or what?”
    Ham sighed. “It’s all happening in a dream. The ship, the singing, the girl...I’m telling you about a dream that Mr. Delaney had. When he wakes up you’ll know where he is, for some of you were there. But I’m trying to build some mystery into it, so shush, and let me tell it.”
    The pirates went silent again, and Ham continued...

The mood is palpable. The crew-filled hammocks, the ship creaking, the pipe smoke rising, the beginnings of the tale. The reader stands among the hammocks watching the scene play out. But before Ham’s story gets going, he is interrupted and a dialogue (conversation that brings drama) ensues.

The dialogue is not contrived. It has a back and forth banter that is true to life. It completes the picture; hitherto, the reader sees the crew gathered about, but now he hears them. And it all centers on Ham who, without any pretense, admits that he’s trying to build mystery into his tale. The pirates apparently like that, and so does the reader.

The dialogue permits the reader to peek into the social psyche of the crew. The tales of Ham were their only means of entertainment. There are (apparently) no books, obviously no movies or television. The nearest comparison that I can think of is how families at one time (in the ‘old days’ as I thought of them as a child) sat around the radio listening to radio plays and drama. This is more striking because Ham’s introduction could have been used for radio. Do you see it?

    Where did it all start? he’d ask. Where do such tales ever start? It was what he’d always ask at the outset of a story. Then Ham would answer himself. Deep in the darkest part of the heart, where men don’t know what goes on even in their own selves. That’s where every story starts.

This is akin to the way the old radio melodrama The Shadow began, ‘who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men...only the shadow knows,’ (organ in the background). Good radio drama has a quality that is unique. Those who sat around the radio in the ‘old days’ were entertained in a way that television, movies, and books are unable to provide. These pirates are unwittingly entertained in similar manner with the likes of Ham. So is the reader.

Ham was a master of suspense:

    “...This fine young lady was boarding a ship, and at that same moment a fierce young warrior wearing the blue naval uniform of a Vast marine was disembarking from another. She glided up the gangway to the main deck of a heavy-laden merchant vessel, which was bound for the southern seaports of Warm Climes.”
    “What’s her name?” one of the men asked.
    “Tell us what she looked like!” begged another.
    "Aye, and don’t tell us there’s mystery to it!” another called out. Laughter rose. Ham was always shrouding some fact he easily could have explained, just so he could produce it later with a flourish, making his listeners feel satisfied after a long hunger.
    “Oh, she was a mystery,” he said. “She was indeed...”

Mystery, a technique that Ham used, and so does Polivka. The names of the lady and the Vast marine are not mentioned until a fitting time later, all the while making the reader wait tantalizingly for the disclosure of the mysterious persons.

The lady and the marine are key to the story of Blaggard’s Moon, and Polivka’s use of Ham introduces them unforgettably. The two going in opposite directions turn at the same moment and their eyes meet - they recognize each other; they have a past:

    “...He saw beauty, fresh and unspoiled, radiant and sharp-eyed, but with sorrow somehow bound up deep within. And what she saw was a dark-haired, scruffy warrior just in from the wildness of the seas, fresh from the fight, but with some unquenchable thirst, a drive she couldn’t name.”
    “Wait, wait, did you say a fight?” one of the men asked. “What fight?”
    “You are a hard bunch to tell a story to, and that’s a fact. If you must know, that very morning Damrick Fellows had had his first battle against a pirate. It wasn’t much, really, just a...”
    Now the cramped room exploded.
    “What did you say?”
    “Hang on now!”
    “You sayin’ it’s Damrick Fellows?”
    “This story is about Hell’s Gatemen?”
    When the room calmed, Ham puffed his pipe for a moment. Then into the tense calm, he spoke the single word, “Aye.”
    The room erupted once again, this time in glee. “Tell us the fight!”
    Ham savored the moment. “But gents, we were about to learn of the fair Jenta Stillmithers, and her travels, and how she was first introduced to the world of pirates and scalawags.”
    “Jenta?” and “Wait, ye mean the pirate’s woman?” and “We want to hear Jenta!”
    “No!” and “Hang on, tell the fight!” others countered.
    And then the forecastle was in an uproar, men shouting at one another from their hammocks, until a few rolled out and stood, the better to argue their points, particularly should their own position on the matter require proofs of a somewhat more forceful nature.
    “All right, shush now! Shush or you’ll hear neither!” Ham bellowed. The room quieted some. “You’ll get the Whale down here thinking there’s fisticuffs broke out amongst us, and we’ll all be feeling Mr. Garvey’s lash. Just furl some sail, boys, and ease up a bit.”
    The men grumbled but settled quickly, then waited impatiently.
    Ham cleared his throat. “Aye, the tale is of Damrick Fellows, and Jenta Stillmithers, and Conch Imbry and his gold. And you shall hear it all.”

And so shall the reader hear it all, thanks to the pen of George Bryan Polivka.

Promoting Blaggard's Moon: A Novel's Opening - August 2010 Christian Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour, Day 2

With fiction and the great majority of nonfiction, the opening is the most important segment of the work, not because it may contain extraordinary literary deployment (though that could be the case, of course), but because if we lose on readers here, we’ll never get them back. In tennis we get a second serve; in most types of writing we don’t. We get only one chance to intrigue our readers, and we’d better make it work! – William Noble, Conflict, Action & Suspense, p 35.

The opening of the novel must accomplish at least two things:

(a) Capture the interest of the reader.

(b) Contain the seed of which the novel is the germinating flower.

If this is not done by page two, or at most by page three, the reader will be too ready to put the book down. Even if he survives an opening that fails on either of these two points, he will have a more critical eye trained on all that follows. It will take more to put the reader into a positive frame of mind toward the story. Mistakes that may come later (a historical inaccuracy, an unrealistic moment, a dull description, an unimportant detail, a subtle grammatical error, etc.), however small, will not be easily forgiven.

One of the ways to ‘capture the interest’ is to open with conflict and/or intrigue. Conflict is intriguing, but I’ll not grant that intrigue is conflict. Conflict is a clash between a character and another character, a character and his circumstances, or even a character and himself. Intrigue has more to do with the unusual and unexpected both of which may or may not be the result of conflict. To encounter a bee gathering pollen may be intriguing, but hardly a conflict (unless you consider the bee as struggling for survival in his pollen-gathering, which to some degree is true).

An opening scene which is rich with intrigue, and equally rich with conflict, is very astute. Blaggard’s Moon opens precisely in this way. The first paragraph, a single line, is so pregnant with intrigue that the reader does a mental double-take.

“On a post. In a pond.”

The reader stops, if only for a moment, to try and let the meaning of that sink in. Does it mean what it really sounds like it means, something (or more unexpectedly, someone) is stuck on a post out in the middle of a body of water? What is it/he doing there? How did it/he get there?

The reader wants and expects the author to reveal what this is about, and if the gratification of that ‘want’ isn’t met in short order, the intrigue will turn to frustration. But Polivka does not let that happen. The next paragraph tells just enough to begin to satisfy the need to know:

Delaney said the words aloud, not because anyone could hear him but because the words needed saying. He wished his small declaration could create a bit of sympathy from a crewmate, or a native, or even one of the cutthroats who had left him here. But he was alone.

Conflict is a sure source of intrigue. Two of the three types of conflict identified above are present here: between character and his environment (the individual stuck on a pole in a body of water), and between character and other characters (the pole-sitter and the cutthroats who put him there).

The abandonment on the pole is conflict, and it is so unusual that the intrigue is immediately palpable. The intrigue comes in the form of dread, and Polivka increases the dread by revealing the unthinkable scope of the conflict in the next three paragraphs. But the paragraph immediately following is a teaser:

It wasn’t the post to which he’d been abandoned that troubled him, though it was troubling enough. The post was worn and unsteady, about eight inches across at the top where his behind was perched, and it jutted eight feet or so up from the still water below him. His shins hugged its pocked and ragged sides; his feet were knotted at the ankles behind him for balance. Delaney was a sailor, and this was not much different than dock posts in port where he’d sat many times to take his lunch. He was young enough not to be troubled with a little pain in the backside, old enough to have felt his share of it. No, the post wasn’t the problem.

The focus of this whole paragraph is on the post. No action here. We don’t need any because we are entranced with the painting of a picture so vivid that we are tempted to wriggle in our reading chair to relieve the psychosomatic pain that developed in our own backsides as we read. We are revolted at the quandary of the post, and yet the post is not the real predicament. The scope of the dilemma grows and so does the dread (intrigue).

The pond from which the post jutted was not terribly troublesome either. It was a lagoon, really, less than a hundred yards across, no more than fifty yards to shore in any direction. He could swim that distance easily. He peered down through the water, past its smooth still surface and eyed the silver-green flash of scales, lit bright by the noonday sun.

The piranha, now, they were something vexing.

The dread of the predicament increases and reaches its climax in a single-sentence paragraph. Polivka’s use of that single sentence does two things: (a) it reveals the horrendous problem in a moment so that its realization is immediate, and (b) it is the verbal equivalent of a symphonic clash of cymbals – it jolts you.

Such a beginning is so intriguing, the potential of so many story lines, that the reader is struck with wonder of not only how the one in the predicament is going to get out of it (if he does), but where the story as a whole is going to go.

In terms of seed and blossom (or the building block which "must be sturdy enough, strong enough to support the story to come," Conflict, Action & Suspense, p41) it turns out that the sailor on the pole is the catalyst for a variety of ways in which the story is told, i.e., his recollection of events first-hand, or the recollection of the tales of a skilled pirate story-teller, whose delightful character is worthy of an article in itself.

This is ‘opening’ at its best.

Promoting Blaggard’s Moon, August 2010 Christian Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour, Day 1

I’m reading Blaggard’s Moon, by George Bryan Polivka, and am wondering why it has never made the New York Times Bestsellers list. Actually, there is no mystery to it - it hasn’t been discovered, yet. Whose fault is that? As Randy Ingermanson once pointed out in an e-zine, nobody is more interested in your book than you are. The burden of marketing one’s book lies heavily on the shoulders of the author. Those who have spent the time (and, I assume, the money) to promote their own books unrelentingly have largely been rewarded for their efforts. If Polivka were to do the same, assuming he has the interest and the means to do it, I think this book could make it big.

For so-so books, or even books that are above average, I would say that it is justifiable for the bulk of promotional responsibility to be on the author. But a book of this caliber should find more than its own author as the promoter.

The publisher comes to mind. Why would a publisher not seek to get the word out on this book is a mystery to me, unless he doesn’t recognize the book to be as good as it is. Surely, that is not so. Perhaps the publisher has to be careful during this economic downturn and cannot afford to devote the time or money to it. If that is the only reason, there should be a change of heart as soon as recovery comes. Perhaps the publishing house believes that many of its books could equally vie for such attention. That may be true, but I cannot think there could be one better than Blaggard’s Moon. The publisher  would do well to take a serious look at what could be done to bring this book to the attention of the reading community. I don’t think it would take a lot; once discovered, word of mouth surely will do the rest.

The author and publisher are not the only factors in the promotion of such a book. There are other influential causes: Blogs and websites whose purpose is to bring attention to good Christian works. Other (well-known and respected) authors could take up the cause. Those who have already read it could do more to get the word out.

Why does it matter? A more pertinent question for me, an aspiring author, is why should I be concerned about the well-being of another’s work; don’t I have enough to handle as it is - trying to produce the best possible work given my time and talent, its publication, and most difficult of all, its marketing?

One might consider that if the general recognition and respect for modern Christian literary works were raised by one successful author (whatever his genre), it might bode well for others of similar aspiration. That might be true, but only possible if the hopeful beneficiaries are themselves exceptionally good writers – as Polivka is. And it is this latter point that is the single reason that makes the promotion of Blaggard’s Moon so reasonable and worthy. It is a novel in which the writing is a work of art. It is the exemplar of which many of us need to become familiar and by it learn the craft of writing.

For that reason, I intend to write a series of articles in which I will use Blaggard’s Moon to illustrate the principles of good writing and story crafting. The first two of these will appear as my second and third posting for the August 2010 Christian Fiction and Fantasy Blog tour.

Startlighter, by Bryan Davis - Day Three of the July 2010 CSFF Blog Tour

Starlighter, book 1 of the Dragons of Starlight series
by Bryan Davis
Published by Zondervan, 2010

Thanks to Zondervan for kindly providing a copy of Starlighter for review on the Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

In my preceding posts, I have been rather blunt in saying that the writing in current-day Christian fantasy for the young (13 - 16 year olds) is quite poor and that Starlighter is no different.

My goal has not been to put a bulls-eye on Bryan Davis. I’m not only trying to review a book - and I think have done that, more or less - but I’m also trying to bring attention to the sad state of writing in the current-day genre. Bryan Davis happened to be on the chopping block. In my mind, others could have been there and the critique would have been just as harsh; in some cases, harsher.

This is my concern. A chief motive behind the CSFF blog tour is to raise awareness of Christian fantasy so that editors and publishers would not shy away from it. The purported reason is that Christian fantasy is a small market. No doubt, that is part of it. But I think an unspoken, underlying reason is because the quality of the writing itself is simply poor.

A thought experiment might give credence to this assessment.

Let us envision one named Joe (the name is fictional and any similarity of persons in real life is not entirely coincidental - Joe might be any one of us). Joe has written several Christian fantasy novels for YA, which have been published by Christian publishers and have been fairly well received by a substantial contingent of Christian readers. The reception has been so positive that he receives the acclaim of not only other well-known (to the Christian community, that is) authors of his genre, but even by some Christians who write outside of it. Joe does admit, however, that since the latter generally write for a Christian audience, the common goal of writing for the Christian reader may have something to do with their praise.

After such laud and honor, Joe begins to think he should be able to get published by one of the major mainstream ‘secular’ publishing houses. He’s not arrogant; he simply sees a viable opportunity to raise the respect of Christian fantasy up a notch or two in the eyes of the secular world - reader and publisher alike.

‘But how would Christian fantasy be received by these publishers?’ Joe wonders. Joe gets on Amazon and takes a look at the (few) bad reviews of his own novels. He discovers that the primary reason for the bad rating is because of the Christian element. It was too preachy, too much pushing a religious agenda. “Ah ha!” Joe cries, “I’ve got it! I’ll write a fantasy novel but without the religious slant to it. And then I’ll get it published by one of those big houses, like the one that did J K Rowling’s. Brilliant!”

Joe has to admit he’s feeling a little guilty over this - it has the smell of compromising his Christian principles, watering down the story just to make it palpable. He thinks about it a bit and decides, ‘No! If I can get my work published by the biggies, I will have proven that Christians can write fantasy with the best of them. And then... then I’ll be able to work in Christian themes bit by bit.’

So, Joe gets to work and produces his first novel of a new series, taking more care with it than he has ever done before. To his surprise and delight, he finds that he is able to work in some symbolism and imagery that definitely has some moral value to it; granted it is, as he feared it would be, watered down, but it’s there and no more religiously blatant than what one would find in any other popular non-Christian work (he spent a good deal of time making sure of this, even asking some of his most trusted endorsers to make an assessment, and they agree with him - it’s neutrally safe).

Joe feels really good about his prospects now and through a respected agent who already has a successful track record, submits his work to the top-notch, big time publishers.

But to Joe’s dismay he receives rejection... after rejection... after rejection. Years later, the manuscript sits in a dusty desk drawer, forgotten, and with it most of the embarrassing memories.

Why was Joe rejected? If you are honest, the moment this imaginary scenario contemplated the mainstream publication of one of ‘us,’ you thought or suppressed the temptation to think, ‘No way. There’s too much competition out there, so many elite names, so many unbelievably good works...’

That’s the problem. We aren’t writing stuff that comes even close to what our successful secular peers are writing.

And it does matter. A Christian writer ought to strive to be among the best of writers. We are redeemed image-bearers of God, part of which entails our imaging his creation-work in our writing. The creation of a fictional world (Randy Ingermanson calls it ‘story-world’) is akin to the creation-work of God, and just as God spoke into being a cosmos with exquisite design, order, and beauty, so should our words create an imaginary world of fine craftsmanship.

We’re not doing that. For whatever reason, we are failing, and until we honestly face up to it, Christian fantasy for the young is not going to change; it will remain second- and third-rate pablum. Let’s take a hard critical look at what we’re producing. It’s not good. By the God-given talent each one of us has, we can change that. But it will take work. God created by simply speaking. We image his speech by writing, speaking the words onto paper, but our speech does not come easy. Regardless, we must write with great care and attention, laboring over syntax, phrasing, vocabulary, rhythm, voice (ours as well as our characters'), esthetics. The first paragraph of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince has all this, and it is sustained to the last page. It crushes me; to hope I could ever write that well is glaringly ludicrous. But that is precisely what each of us should endeavor to do. Let’s be done with our mediocrity. Let’s roll up our sleeves, and put our nose to the grind. Much could be done for the promotion of the Kingdom through fantasy, but it has to be good - really good - writing. Let’s make it that good.

See a list of the participants for this month's blog tour.
See Starlighter on amazon.
See Bryan Davis's website and blog.

Startlighter, by Bryan Davis - Day Two of the July 2010 CSFF Blog Tour

Starlighter, book 1 of the Dragons of Starlight series
by Bryan Davis
Published by Zondervan, 2010

Thanks to Zondervan for kindly providing a copy of Starlighter for review on the Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

One of the chief aspects of any good story is its characters. Character development is controlled by the character’s interaction with the fictional world the writer has created. Such interaction takes place between a person and other persons, or between a person and his environment (situations and events). Another way to state it is to say that for any given person in the story, interaction takes place not only with the setting of the fantasy world, but also with other characters within that setting.
Take the simple idea of someone sitting at a dinner table, engaged in eating a meal. There are others at the table participating in the same meal. What typically happens in such a setting? Usually it’s uncomplicated: people eat their food and converse with each other. But assume that in our scene there is one character whose presence is important to the story, and the impact of that character in the story may depend significantly on that simple dinner scene.

The situation and the character work together. The setting and its circumstances facilitate the animation of the character because we can watch the character in a context, and by his reaction and dialogue within that context, see his personality unwrap.

If the character at the dinner table is moody, he may sit with his eyes fixed on his plate, spooning his food away without the slightest hint of interest over what the others are eating or conversing; it will show in his face and body language, even in the manner of his eating. This single trait of moodiness could be the central point around which the whole dinner scene revolves providing potential conflict, mood, or intrigue (or a combination of these). Whatever is evoked can follow the character into another situation - one where the circumstances are different and the cast is new but takes on a nuance of which it would be devoid if not for what has already been revealed to the reader at the dinner meal.

Mood, situation, intrigue, conflict, temperament - all of this provides the writer with the material to build a delightful character.

Bryan Davis has conjured up such a character, Tibalt Blackstone, whose role is not leading, but significant and continues through a large portion of the book. Tibalt is the son of Uriel Blackstone (one of the original abductees who escapes from Starlight back to Darksphere, warns of the dragon world, and is shut away as a lunatic for his efforts). Tibber the Fibber, as Tibalt is known to his captors and inmates, is unquestionably the most colorful character in the book.

One reason for this is how the reader encounters him. Our first glimpse produces intrigue:

   As soon as the thought entered his [Jason’s] mind, a movement
caught his eye. Three doors ahead on the left, probing fingers
reached between the bars. Easing to the right to avoid them, Jason
stopped and looked at the gray-bearded face pressing against the
window’s grating. Long strands of greasy hair spilled down the
sides of his head, and his smile revealed wide gaps between sparse
teeth. p 86.

First thing you think is ‘we’re looking at a loony’ partly because he looks like someone who’s been stuck there for a very long time; the straggly, greasy hair gives that impression. But more so because whoever this person is, he’s probably lost any sense of deprivation and awareness of his horrendous plight – he’s smiling. Who would do that in these circumstances? He’s got to be a nutcase. What he says next doesn’t help to improve this impression:
   “You are finally here,” he said with a cackle. “I knew
you would come! I knew it!” p. 86

The reader scoffs, and along with Jason wants to say none too delicately, ‘Really? And who are you?’

The scene is set up for an exchange (‘dialogue’ is the technically sterile description for this) that begins to add color and life:

   Jason set the flame closer to the door and read the
number on a metal plate just above the crossbar. Cell
number twenty. “Who are you?”
   “They call me Tibber the Fibber, but my real name is
Tibalt Blackstone. I survived the Great Plague, I did.”
   “The Great Plague! Then you must be over ninety
years old.”
   “Oh, yes. As old as the hills and older than rust, my
bones are brittle, and my brain’s full of dust.” p. 86

We sense that Tibber is going to be fun to watch. The ensuing exchange between Tibber and Jason is the best in the book. You get a picture of Tibber, a crackpot who might be more sane than we think, all of which makes you warm up to him right away.

Bryan Davis was on to something with Tibber the Fibber. The power of the character continues throughout the book, giving a little extra in all those places where he appears. That is so, in spite of those subsequent encounters never gaining the liveliness of the first one. But because the reader has such a visual on Tibber from that first scene, his presence makes those passages more vibrant than they would without him.

I wish Bryan Davis had done this with all his lead characters. But, with the exception of Tibber and this initial encounter with him, the characters are flat. They appear but don’t catch our imaginative eye. We are more or less told what the characters are like rather than seeing and hearing them. To have done that no doubt would have expanded the length of the book by many, many pages, but it would have raised the overall quality several notches.
One of three elements that go into the making of a good novel, according to Stephen King, is dialogue “which brings characters to life through their speech,” (On Writing, p163). This is an area where Starlighter does not do very well (our first encounter with Tibber excepted). Not that the book is lacking in dialogue, but it lacks believable, realistic, colorful dialog. We don’t get a feel for the personality because the dialogue is too often stilted, corny, drab, consisting of short exchanges of passionless words for which the reader has little empathy. The story is intended for the young teen and older but the level of dialogue is too elementary and a bit reminiscent of Danny Orliss, the Bobsy Twins, and the Sugar Creek Gang.
As an aside, I would say that even in those successful books, the dialogue could undoubtedly have been better. I read them as a pre-teen, and even then I sensed something lacking; but for whatever reason, it didn’t make me quit reading. An example of excellent dialogue in a novel for the pre-teen reader would be The Great Brain series by John D. Fitzgerald. There the dialog is elegantly simple, but richly colorful. Fitzgerald’s characters come to life in a way that much of that genre doesn’t match. Granted, the animating power behind The Great Brain is largely due to simple and brilliant description enhanced by Fitzgerald’s own voice in the telling of the story. But the dialogue itself is singularly integral; it is full of personality; the rhythm and content of the speech combine to stamp the speaker’s personality firmly in our imagination.

Believable and personality-endowing dialogue is critical whatever the reading level. Starlighter was abysmally lacking in such dialogue.

See a list of the participants for this month's blog tour.
See Starlighter on amazon.
See Bryan Davis's website and blog.

Startlighter, by Bryan Davis - Day One of the July 2010 CSFF Blog Tour

Starlighter, Book 1 of the Dragons of Starlight series by Bryan Davis
Published by Zondervan, 2010

Thanks to Zondervan for kindly providing a copy of Starlighter for review on the Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour.

Starlighter is a story of two worlds, one inhabited by dragons (Starlight), the other by humans (Darksphere). A hundred years prior, humans where abducted and taken back into the world of the dragons. They are known as the Lost Ones. The Lost Ones labor in servitude for the dragons, performing many chores of which the most important is to work in mines to retrieve a precious gas that the dragons need to survive.

About a year after the abduction, Uriel Blackstone, one of the kidnapped humans, escapes and return to Darksphere. Upon proclaiming what had happened, he was declared a lunatic by the authorities and confined, but not before predicting that one day the hidden underground gateway to the dragon world would be found and the Lost Ones rescued.

The story unfolds in a set of events that works toward the ultimate rescue of the Lost Ones, though the rescue itself waits fulfillment in subsequent installments of the series.

The reader encounters the appearance of at least five key personalities: Adrian, a boy-warrior; Elyssa, a Diviner; Koren, a gifted story-teller; Randall, of spoiled nobility turned bold warrior; and Tibber the Fibber, a whacky old man, whose knowledge is key to the success of the quest to find the underground gateway that leads to the dragon world and ultimate rescue.

Interspersed in this are references to the Code, a banned book on Darksphere, but which is read and memorized by believers (in the Creator) for its wisdom and guidance. It appears to be ancient wisdom literature in which some of the sayings are reminiscent to those of Jesus, such as, “If you wish others to treat you and your belongings with respect, then let respect for them flow in your thoughts, your speech, and your deeds.” (page 23)

The central dark secret of the tale lies in a dragon egg on Starlight. It portends the end of human existence on that planet, and possibly on Darksphere as well. It figures prominently toward the end of the book and presumably continues that prominence in the next.

I want to preface this review with a clarification that though I will use the term Christian fantasy for young adults (CFYA), I have in mind those works whose readership is between the ages of 13 to 16 (7th - 10th grade). I believe Starlighter falls in this category. Setting a limit to the age range does not mean that a book written for that audience will not appeal to those who are older. On the contrary, I think a novel written for the thirteen year old, if written well, will appeal to anyone of that age or older. The Harry Potter series is a case in point.

My impression of the story itself is mixed. I like how the story takes shape on Starlight, especially the events that center on Koren, and the venerated dragon egg toward the end of the book. The beginning was likeable as well. The middle recounted the quest for the underground passageway and its traversal, but it was not very believable to me. In particular, Achan and Elyssa taking on impossible odds and making it through with what would require superhuman strength and skill. Yes, it is a fantasy, and the fantastic does give some wiggle room, but it cannot ignore human frailty either.

One thing about the story that didn't enamor me was that it was about dragons, again. That is what Bryan Davis specializes in so it should not come as a surprise. I am not saying that a dragon story is bad, but I have yet to read any current Christian fantasy novel in which I can really ‘see’ the dragon. I know what a dragon is supposed to look like, but I find it hard to visualize one in any of those books. I lay the responsibility for that more or less on me; there may be a flaw in my imaginative abilities when it comes to dragons. Those who have enjoyed Bryan Davis's stories and dragons will undoubtedly like this story as well.

True to what is expected of today’s Christian fantasy the story begins with an action scene in which Jason and Randall face each other in a tournament. After a trick maneuver, Jason wins, and the story begins in seriousness. Contrary to the action-scene of the tournament, the story eases up - it does not race along with continued rapid-fire action. Yet, it moves quickly enough that there’s no threat of it stagnating along the way. For reasons which I will give below, I prefer a slow, steady pace (which is not the fashion as I have been told), and though Starlighter is not action-packed, it moves along more quickly than I like.

Perhaps as a symptom of trying to get things going as quickly as possible, the novel encounters a problem before the first chapter ends. It introduces so many characters in such quick succession, it became confusing for me.

I think that’s the temptation, even bane, of today’s CFYA: to bring it on fast and keep the pace going. Though the action in this novel didn’t fly, it still suffered because it moved faster than what I think a story should.

As I see it, there are two looming difficulties with fast-paced and quick moving stories:

(1) The characters tend to have little depth, little personality; the reader only knows about them, but doesn’t know them. The reason: to accommodate the pace, the scenes have to change before the characters take on color and life. There is one exception to this in Starlighter, which I’ll look at in my second post. But the novel’s characters suffer for lack of vivid personality, and the pace is probably a significant reason why.

(2) Coexistent with shallow characters are events that lack authenticity, believability, and pertinency, events which fail to elicit empathy or arouse emotions of fear, humor, joy, pain, and so on. Just as the reader does not become acquainted with the characters, neither does he live (imaginatively) within the event. He stands outside and observes, but he doesn’t have the sense of being there.

As much as the pace of the story has an impact on the authenticity of its characters and events, there is something even more fundamental than that - the writing. Good writing brings the imaginary world and its characters together in such a way that the reader ‘feels’ like he is there in the middle of it. No matter how good the story itself is, or appropriate its pace, the resolution of (1) and (2) will not come about without good writing, and much of today’s CFYA fails miserably in this area. Instead of painting masterpieces, we are producing poor quality paint-by-number imitations. In my estimation, Starlighter falls within the latter. (But see my review of By Darkness Hid, which I hold as a long awaited and happy exception to this).

I know that some would disagree vehemently with me about the quality of writing in today’s Christian fiction. Rebecca LuElla Miller, whose opinion I respect highly on all things fantasy, countered the charge against the writing quality of current Christian speculative fiction in a recent post (Jumping into the Christian Speculative Fiction Discussion) by citing four authors who, in her thinking, have produced works in which the writing is quite good. I tend to agree with regard to George Bryan Polivka, but I differ about the others. Even so, as far as I can tell, the authors cited were not writing for the younger age group, so whatever one may think of how good those writers are, they don’t represent well the group I have in mind.

I am more and more convinced that the lack of recognition for Christian fantasy for the young is not for a paucity of literary works, but for a dearth of good writing in the genre. We all, myself included, have got to do better. We are obligated to strive to excel above our secular peers, and I think very few of us really understand that. I have more to say on this, but I’m going to save it for my third post. I hope you’ll read it.

See a list of the participants for this month's blog tour.
See Starlighter on amazon.
See Bryan Davis's website and blog.

Rating Chart