Last December I saw The Good Dinosaur in theater. In one moment I will never forget, a pterodactyl rescued a “critter” trapped beneath a log by a fierce storm. Now, you cannot appreciate the full impact of this moment until you appreciate that this critter was a baby fox, as adorable as only a Disney sense of animal cuteness and a Pixar skill in animation could make it. After pulling this little fox out of the wreckage of the storm, the pterodactyl – this is the unforgettable part – ate him. The audience’s eyes bulged, cartoon-like, at the shock of instant furry death. Pixar, I didn’t know you had it in you!

But maybe I should have guessed. Pixar is, after all, part of Disney, and Disney’s reputation for sweetness and light has long been exaggerated. Despite its towering reputation for almost saccharine goodness – or, more likely, because of it – Disney routinely gets away with things that would leave lesser movie studios branded. For The Hunchback of Notre Dame, someone might have even gone to jail.

Let’s begin at the beginning. Remember the moment in Snow White when the Evil Queen cackles about Snow White being buried alive, or jeers at the skeleton of a prisoner who evidently died reaching for a jug of water? “Thirsty? Have a drink!”

Then there is Dumbo, the movie about the baby elephant whose life is a progressive mounting of humiliation. He is mocked first by other elephants, who wouldn’t let him play in any … No, wait, that’s a different story. Dumbo was mocked by his fellow elephants, then by human beings; his mother, the only person who loved him, was taken away and chained up; then he was repeatedly used by clowns, whom children ought to love but don’t, in a humiliating skit. The artistic masterpiece of the film is Pink Elephants on Parade, a song about the hallucinations Dumbo and his mouse friend experience after accidentally imbibing alcohol.

If not for Dumbo, The Fox and the Hound might well be the most bathetic of the Disney animal films. It is surely the most bittersweet. Although thin fare in some ways, and almost silly in its climactic danger, The Fox and the Hound is ruled by the thought that there are limits that cannot be broken and friendships that cannot be made. This is a juxtaposition that has long impressed me: the unusually childish climax, the unusually grown-up theme.

The original Fantasia features an evolution sequence that consists primarily of dinosaurs eating each other, or attempting to, before fading away in a torturous, water-starved trek. If your child has failed to realize the essential cruelty of the survival of the fittest, Disney can correct that. At least half of the final act of Fantasia is devoted to a devil-figure that summons dancing ghosts and skeletons. I would have thought that this, the most macabre imagery in any animated Disney film, would have achieved a little fame, but it hasn’t. Not enough people noticed. (Perhaps they were turning off the movie at the dancing hippos.)

I haven’t gotten into The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I don’t really want to. To give you, briefly, an idea of the sweetness and light that is this movie, I offer the following observation: The song-and-dance number the Gypsies do about executing prisoners because “the dead don’t talk” is a bit grim, but it’s a barrel of laughs compared to “Hellfire”.

Disney has gone some dark places. Why, then, their reputation? It might be that people don’t watch much classic Disney, or haven’t since childhood, and go more by old memories and cultural impressions than firsthand knowledge. It might be that people’s expectations are so strong they are slow to notice when Disney diverges from them. It might be that some people believe, consciously or not, that until a story uses bad language, or is explicitly sexual or violent, it never reaches the darkness.

Another reason is, of course, that Disney films are usually lighter than their original tales, and lighter than many modern stories. But there are very few stories that do not, on examination, at least touch the darkness. In our world, that’s what stories are made of.

We’ve all heard the line, “I was only trying to protect you,” mainly used by a various assortment of heroes (aka ALL-OF-THEM) when explaining why they kept their identity a secret from their closest friends and family.

On one hand, the “protection” excuse makes me want to run up a wall. It’s so overused, you can practically feel it getting ready to leap off their tongues, and often at inopportune times. Its commonality has increased its annoyance to epic proportions.

Yet on the other hand, I get it. Who but the most cold-hearted person would want to willingly endanger the people they love? The inclination to protect people, even if it means boarding Dishonesty Ferry until it becomes second nature, is something we all can relate to. Would we do any less?

Most of the time, this over-protection mindset takes the form of hiding true identities, lying, and making excuses. Out of the goodness of their hero-ness, the main characters purposefully keep the curtain pulled over their hidden life of battling crime, saving the day, and ruining the villainous plans of their foes.

But when does protecting someone go too far? Is such a thing even possible?

Last week’s episode of the The Flash delved into this question of when protection goes too far, and it set me down a path through the Thinking Woods.

(FLASH SPOILERS AHEAD. PROCEED AT OWN RISK.)

If you’ve been following this season, you know Zoom has entered the storyline and is wreaking a startling amount of havoc. Including in the personal life of Earth 2 Harrison Wells. For a long time, Zoom was holding Wells’ daughter Jessie prisoner. Recent events have brought Jessie and Harry to Earth 1 permanently, but while his daughter was in Zoom’s grip, Harry was determined to do anything he could to save her.

To protect her from Zoom.

He agreed to help Zoom steal the Flash’s speed. He double-crossed the Star Labs team. He murdered a man.

All to protect Jessie.

She’s since been rescued and reunited with Harry, but his protective instincts are far from quelled. He’ll still do anything to keep her safe, as was the case in last week’s episode, where he capitulated to Trajectory’s demands and gave her the V9. Even though it was the worst decision he could have made, he did it anyway.

To protect Jessie.

This is an extreme example, because a father’s need to protect his daughter is a powerful incentive.

What about Stark in Age of Ultron? Ever since New York, the world had been different. The threat of an alien invasion loomed over everyone. If it happened once, it could—likely would—happen again. Stark saw that threat as an opportunity, a duty, to protect earth. To create an impenetrable barrier ensuring the world’s safety.

We all know how that turned out.

How Far Is Too Far?

The question becomes, “Is it always the best decision to protect people, no matter the cost? Where do we draw the line?”

As Spock incessantly reminds us, “The good of the many outweighs the good of the few.”

Is that truly the case? Is life so simple we can reduce it to a formula, a numbers game where the majority always comes out on the safe side? Can we honestly expect a father to protect a building of people if it means letting his family die? After all, his first and foremost loyalty is to his wife and children.

It’s a fascinating dilemma that doesn’t have a clear-cut answer, at least in my mind. There are too many factors to consider to make a blanket statement one way or the other. However, such moral quandaries make for compelling storytelling.

This is where the beauty of a deep story shines bright. Not content to muddle through on the strength of shallow themes, it dares to ask probing questions that hook us because not only do they matter to the characters, they’re intrinsic to human existence.

Situations that place the characters on the spot bring reality into stark relief. The magic of storytelling transports us into their shoes, and we wonder, “Could I take a life, innocent or guilty, enemy or bystander, to save a life?”

“Would I give in to the villain to protect my family?”

“Could I let my best friend die to save hundreds?”

Such questions take a story to another level, and leave a deeper impact on us because they don’t give us the easy way out. Sometimes, there seems to be no right way. We’re forced to engage with the story and mentally chew on the implications—for the characters and for ourselves.

Rebel (Enclave Publishing)

No Ordinary Fairy Tale Book 2

By R. J. Anderson

Introduction

The last time Timothy broke a rule, he got suspended.

But when he defies the faery empress, it might well get him killed.

Timothy Sinclair doesn’t believe in faeries—after all the hardships he’s suffered since his missionary parents sent him away to boarding school, he’s not even sure he still believes in God. But when a tiny winged girl named Linden bursts into his life and begs him to help save her people, the skeptical Timothy finds himself drawn into a struggle against a potent evil that threatens humans and faeries alike.

With a deadly pair of hunters on their trail, Timothy and Linden flee across country, drawn by the legend of a white stone that could be the faeries’ salvation. But the dangers that await them test their courage and resolve to the limit, threatening to tear their unlikely partnership apart. And when it comes down to one last desperate battle, they and all the people they love will be doomed unless Linden and Timothy can find the faith to overcome…

Book two of the No Ordinary Fairy Tale series.

Previously published in the US under the title Wayfarer.

EXCERPT

Prologue

The Queen is dying.

The knowledge sat in Linden’s belly like a cold stone as she hunched over the tub of greasy water, scrubbing her thirty-ninth plate. She’d promised Mallow, the Chief Cook, that she’d wash all the Oakenfolk’s dishes in exchange for a second piece of honey cake at dinner, and at the time it had seemed a reasonable bargain. But now that she knew what was happening at the top of the Spiral Stair—that the faery Queen was lying pale and weak upon her bed and might never rise from it again—she wanted to heave up all the cake she’d eaten and throw the last few dishes straight back in the Chief Cook’s face.

How could Mallow look smug, after bringing them such terrible news? The moment she’d spoken those words the whole kitchen had gone silent, Gatherers and cooks and scullions all staring in horrified disbelief. Yet the corners of Mallow’s fat mouth were curled up in obvious self-satisfaction, as though the important thing wasn’t Queen Amaryllis’s fate, only that she’d been the first of the to find out about it.

Still, Linden didn’t dare to question Mallow, or beg her for more details—unless, of course, she was prepared to bargain for the information. The other faeries in the kitchen must have thought the same, for they’d already gone back to work, downcast faces and trembling hands their only signs of emotion. But Linden could imagine the anxious thoughts running through their minds, because the same fears chilled her own:

How much longer can the Queen live”
Who will rule the Oak now?
And most of all: Oh, Great Gardener, what will become of us when she’s gone?

Linden bowed her head over the tub until her long brown curls almost brushed the water. She squeezed her eyes shut and her lips together, trying not to weep. To be brave, like her foster mother Knife had taught her—but oh, she wished that Knife could be with her now!

“Don’t forget these,” said Mallow’s voice from behind her, and a silver tray clattered onto the counter by Linden’s side. “Not that she’s eaten much, so be sure to scrape them first.”

In Mallow’s language scrape them really meant save all the good bits for me. Linden looked at the almost untouched food—a plate of delicately carved roast finch with mashed roots and chestnut dressing—and felt sick all over again. If the Queen couldn’t even muster the will to eat, how would she find the strength to do magic? If the spells that protected the Oak weren’t renewed on a daily basis they would start to weaken, and then it wouldn’t take long for disease, insects and a host of hungry predators to start gnawing their way inside . . .

“Someone else can wash the Queen’s dishes, Mallow,” said a calm voice from the doorway. “Her Majesty wishes me to bring Linden to her at once.”

Linden looked up, her tears draining into the backs of her eyes as she recognized the tall, grave-looking faery who had spoken. “Me, Valerian? Why?”

But Mallow spoke up before Valerian could answer. “Linden made me a bargain, Healer. You can wait.”

Someone gasped, but quickly turned it into a cough as Mallow swung round. “Stop gawping and get back to work!” she barked, then returned her glare to Linden. “Well?”

Anger surged through Lindn, and she clenched her soap-slick hands. It was one thing for Mallow to bully her own kitchen workers, or a temporary servant like Linden herself. But to be rude to Valerian—worse, to deny a request from their own dying Queen—it was intolerable.

Yet what could she do about it? At fifteen Linden was by far the youngest faery in the Oak, and one of the smallest besides. She had no magic, no influence, not even a proper occupation yet. It was ridiculous to think she could stand up to someone like Mallow. Linden swallowed, nodded, and began removing the uneaten food from the Queen’s plate.

“No,” said Valerian, walking over. She took the plate from Linden, gently but firmly, and set it aside. “Her Majesty is not dead yet, Mallow. And even among faeries, there are duties more sacred than a bargain.” She bent and looked into Linden’s face with her searching grey eyes. “The Queen has need of you. Will you come with me?”

Not commanding, but asking: that was Valerian’s way. And yet that simple courtesy was enough to straighten Linden’s spine, making her ashamed that she had bowed to Mallow for even a moment.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll come at once.”

– – – – –
Author Bio
R. J. (Rebecca) Anderson isn’t trying to pretend she’s not female, she just thinks her initials look writerly. The daughter of a Bible teacher who read Tolkien and Lewis aloud to his children, she grew up daydreaming about Narnia and Middle-Earth, watching DOCTOR WHO from behind the sofa, and hanging out in her brothers’ comic book shop. Now she writes novels about knife-wielding faeries, weird science, and the numinous in the modern world.

Her debut novel KNIFE was longlisted for the Carnegie Award in 2009 and became a UK bestseller; it and its sequels REBEL and ARROW are now being re-released in US paperback and e-book by Enclave Publishing. Her teen thriller ULTRAVIOLET (2011) was shortlisted for the 2012 Andre Norton (Nebula) award and the Sunburst Award for Canadian SF, and was followed by a companion novel, QUICKSILVER (2013). Her newest book is a magical mystery-adventure called A POCKET FULL OF MURDER (Atheneum, September 2015)

I’ve recently begun watching a new show called Damien on A&E. As you can probably guess, it is based on The Omen series of movies that began in the 70s (forget about the toothless recent remake). I’ve only watched the first movie, which has become an occult horror classic. If you are unfamiliar with the story, it centers around a young boy named Damien who may or may not be destined to become the Anti-Christ. He seems innocent enough, playing with his toys and tricycle, but people start dying around him in terrible ways, and forces of light and darkness converge around him, hoping to pull him to their side. All the while, his distraught father wrestles with the horrific possibility that his own son might grow up to be the most heinous villain in human history as tragedies unfold around him. It is a very suspenseful and chilling film (and also features the most most awesomely cheesy decapitation scene ever shown on screen) that is definitely worth watching. I watched it and several similar films when I was doing research for my first book, The Age of Apollyon.

After lying dormant for decades, the studio suits have decided to resurrect the franchise as a TV show. Only three episodes have aired so far, but we know that Damien is now a 30-year-old photographic journalist who is drawn to war-torn areas. He has not materialized into the Anti-Christ; in fact, he has little recollection of his childhood, which was depicted in the first movie. Supernatural strangeness and inexplicable deaths start to occur (and the menacing dogs from the films make frequent appearances too). Even though he is not sure of his supposed destiny, there are many people who do know and either want him dead or in their camp. All the while, Damien is struggling to come to grips with the possibility that he is indeed the Anti-Christ, though he is naturally reluctant to ascend the throne.

As I said, only a few episodes have aired so we have not had a chance to delve too deeply into the characters or storyline, but like the movie, it is a fascinating premise. I am very curious how the writers and producers will take an amnesiac photojournalist and have him subdue the nations and declare war against the people of God. But what is most intriguing to me is the question that is not explored too often: what do you do if you are destined to become a villain?

Of course, this is Hollywood, and sound theology is predictably lacking, but the truth is that someone somewhere will one day grow up to become the Son of Perdition, as he is called in 2 Thessalonians 2:3. As Jesus was once a child, so shall this man be. Will he be evil right out of the womb? Will he be transformed by some traumatic event? Will he be “evil” in the comic book villain sense of the word?

For obvious reasons, a believer in Christ could not end up becoming the Man of Sin but anyone who does not believe could theoretically become this man. As Morpheus said in The Matrix: “Anyone who is still plugged in is potentially an agent.” So also could anyone who is still in the clutches of darkness become The Beast who shall be given authority for forty-two months (Rev. 13:5). Perhaps even someone as innocuous as a freelance photographer.

What I enjoy about this show is how Damien is the hero even though we know (do we?) that he is destined to become the villain. He is a decent and caring person who is shocked by the horrific events that happen around him, though we see glimpses of a sinister shadow that blankets his soul. He is antagonistic towards God and the church, and he is drawn to those who wish to see him fulfill his destiny. Until that happens, however, there is still hope. The darkness is powerful but the light is even more so. In this nihilistic age, entertainment often revels in the dark side but it is refreshing to find a program that also demonstrates the power of light.

Yet something tells me this will not end well…

Ever had that frustrating moment when you didn’t know what to say?

You’re engaged in a lively debate and someone makes a point, and you can’t find the words to counter.

You’re in a situation that’s begging for a witty remark and your mind goes blank.

Terrible, isn’t it?

Fear not, faithful citizen. I have a perfect cure for your tongue-tied problems. And what better cure than turning to Lord of the Rings?

That’s right. Twenty Lord of the Rings quotes suitable for that moment when you desperately need something to say, whether clever, profound, or straightforward.

1. “It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing.” – Frodo

2. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” – Gandalf

3. “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the Ages of this world alone.” – Arwen

4. “May your beer be laid under an enchantment of surpassing excellence for seven years!” – Gandalf

5. “Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!” – Elrond

6. “Not the beard!” – Gimli

7. “You offer it to me freely? I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this.” – Galadriel

8. “No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take.” – Gandalf

9. “Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me.” – Éowyn

10. “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.” – Bilbo

11. “You will soon be well, if I do not talk you to death.” – Gandalf

12. “Short cuts make long delays.” – Pippin

13. “I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways.” – Merry

14. “Let us remember that a traitor may betray himself and do good that he does not intend.” – Gandalf

15. “You have shown your usual cunning in getting up just in time for a meal.” – Pippin

16. “Faithful heart may have froward tongue.” – Théoden

17. “It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.” – Isildur

18. “I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox.” – Gimli

19. “It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.” – Sam

20. “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” – Gandalf

I like to imagine using #7 when someone offers me a boatload of books, or maybe #17 if I have to buy the books myself.

Can you think of any situations where you could use one of these quotes? What are your favorite Lord of the Rings quotes?

*This post originally appeared in April, 2015, on zacharytotah.com

What superhero dies?

I’ll be honest, I was never much for superhero stories. Yes, I liked Superman when he came alive on the small screen years ago. And I liked even better the adaptations that showed his coming of age, before he became Superman. But Spiderman . . . our local paper carried the comic strip and I read it until I stopped getting the paper a little over a decade ago. Yes, I also watched The Hulk when it was on TV. That’s about it for me and superheros.

I mention this for the sake of context. I’m not an expert when it comes to superheros. In fact I might be completely wrong about my conclusions.

In doing a little research, I discovered that a number of superheros have died—but mostly, they don’t stay dead. Batman died in 2009—or not. As it turned out, he actually time traveled. Supergirl died, until she came back on TV this year. I haven’t watched the show and don’t know if there’s any interest in following the comic book story line, so who knows whether or not this latest iteration will/will not live on.

In 2007 Captain America died, and he seems to have stayed dead. At the same time, his sacrificial death apparently rocked the superhero world and catapulted at least person out of his dark past into “a new era of heroism” (“The 12 most important superhero deaths ever”)

I could go on and discuss Peter Parker/Spiderman and the Ultimate Spiderman (both died, one came back) or Superman, who died in 1992 (and came back later), the Green Lantern in 1996, Flash (who stayed dead for twenty years before being brought back), or Captain Marvel, but I’m primarily interested in the fact that superheros, who readers and viewers have come to think of as immortal, died.

Generally their deaths were noble. None died of natural causes, it would seem. They fought evil, they sacrificed to save others. And they died in the process.

As near as I can tell, none laid down their life. None died that others might live on in eternity. None died to save the immortal soul of those they wanted to protect.

And yet, these superheros so often point to Jesus Christ who did, in fact, lay down His life, who did die that others might have everlasting life, who did die to save the immortal souls of those He rescued from the dominion of darkness (see Colossians 2).

Jesus, in so many ways, has the qualities which resonate with our culture. In “Why Are Superhero Stories So Popular,” Zach Torah presented five reasons people today are drawn to superheros. Reasons that caught my attention in particular were the last two: superheros go from the ordinary to the extraordinary and they have cross-generational appeal.

Jesus had a humble beginning here on earth. In fact, he had a humble life. And then he died an ignominious death. His sacrifice wasn’t one people recognized right away, and His fame didn’t grow until years after He left this planet.

Jesus is also a cross-generational hero. In fact, He’s cross-cultural, cross-gender, cross-national. You name a divide, and Jesus crosses it.

I find that especially appealing in this year’s divided political climate here in the US.

In the end, Jesus’s death is the greatest superhero death of all. For one thing, it was real. Jesus is no comic book figure or myth or make-believe hero. Second, his death was the supreme sacrifice—He, who knew no sin, took on the weight of sin for all who repent and believe in His name. The result of His sacrifice has everlasting implications, not temporary ones.

And the great resolution, of course, is that Jesus did not stay dead.

This week all of Christendom celebrates what Jesus has done. We refer to this week as Passion Week, remembering all He went through in His final moments before His glorification. None of it would have matter if Easter didn’t come after Good Friday; if the resurrection didn’t follow the crucifixion.

Jesus demonstrated that He is the true hero, and I submit that all the other superheros appeal to people because we long for rescue, we long for relationship with the One who can save us, we long for someone powerful who will set all to right.

We believers have the privilege of announcing to the world, He’s real, He’s alive, He’s coming again, and He can be your King, too.

The Wingfeather Saga is a series of four fantasy adventure novels written by Christian singer/songwriter/author/all around super-talented uber-mensch Andrew Peterson.

Andrew’s song writing leaves you smiling through tears as he weaves the bittersweet streams of current loss and failing with future hope and redemption. He brought this layered sensibility to his Wingfeather series, mixed with a healthy dose of fun and whimsy, as well. Often described as “The Lord of the Rings meets The Princess Bride,” the series has developed a dedicated and passionate following among many, especially owing to its inclusion of eternal themes of courage, destiny, faith and redemption.

For years these same fans of the series have been asking Andrew to make a film based on the books. Eventually, like the persistent widow, their cries moved the needle.

So within the past year a team of experienced animation professionals has coalesced around Andrew to see if we can’t make this a reality. Our little band of merry trouble makers includes:

• Andrew Peterson,  of course;
• Producer Chris Wall, formerly of Big Idea and dancing/singing vegetable fame;
• Director Tom Owens, head of story for Dreamworks’ wildly successful How to Train Your Dragon films but also a director on a couple of VeggieTales episodes over the years;
• And myself, a longtime CG animation and art explorer and production expert, currently at Valve making cool video games, but I also was once a director and studio manager for Big Idea.

Is it just me, or are you sensing a theme here, too?

Together we’ve committed to try to bring The Wingfeather Saga to life in animation.

In one way or another we four have known each other for the better part of the last 10 to 15 years and have often collaborated on previous projects. With similar goals and tastes and a desire to see something cool, meaningful and redemptive brought to life we dug into the material to find a way to forge this path to the screen.

Rather than settle on a 90-minute feature film that would necessitate the cutting of many beloved characters and dropping significant story details, we determined to make an animated series. This approach would allow the richness of the world and characters to unfold in a way that honors the books as well as the themes held therein.

However, just having a dedicated fan base for the books — as well as experienced professionals to do the work — isn’t quite enough to convince executives to fund the production. In the business this project would be described as “execution dependent.” This means that before people sign checks to bring the story to the screen (and big checks they would be, because animation is expensive!), they want to actually, you know, kinda see what it is they’re buying.

Fair point.

So the plan was set to make a short film with the goal to nail down the artistic style, the narrative tone, translate the world and the characters from the written page to a visual life, and tell a story that hits the mark in order to qualm the well-founded financial hemming and hawing of those who would fund such a series.

But remember what I said about animation being expensive? Yeah, that’s still true even for a short film. Disney or Dreamworks spend over $1 million for every minute of animation you see on the screen. Even far less-extravagant TV shows still spend $30,000 for every minute. So what’s a team of plucky, but not independently wealthy creatives to do? Quick, Batman — to the Crowdfunding-Mobile!

The Wingfather Saga Kickstarter campaign began a smidge over two weeks ago with the goal of raising $110,000 to produce a short animated film to share with the world and the show that we can do this thing. Mind you, we know we can do this thing. It’s been our jobs to do this kind of thing for the last 20 years and we’re good enough at our jobs to have the best in the world hire us to do it for them. But “execution dependent” and all that, so…

Anyhow, to our surprise and gratitude we hit our fundraising goal in 48 hours. Thank the Lord for active and passionate fan bases! We’ve also hit our first three stretch goals, each one allowing us to bring one more character to the screen and further open up the world of Wingfeather in the short film. In the world of crowdfunding this means we have a real winner on our hands! We have a couple stretch goals remaining that we’d love to hit so that we can really pull back the curtain and blow the socks off of folks with check books to fund the animated series.

However, according to folks much smarter than me, the real fruit of a crowd funding campaign isn’t the money to make the short film. Instead the fruit is the audience building. The more backers we have the easier it is to show the powers that be that there is an unmet demand and desire for this kind of content, and specifically this story. When executives see thousands of people willing to give to a project then they understand that those folks are a proxy for thousands more who would go in for a story like this. Seeing all these backers means that they won’t be giving us a bunch of money to make something that nobody will want to watch.

(In the entertainment business that’s known as a “stupid thing to do.” This is deep insider knowledge I’m dishing folks. Roll with me here.)

Keith Lango, CG visual development

So we’d love to have you come along for the ride! Jump over to our Kickstarter page to find out more, see what it is we’re doing and if you feel like it, help us out if you can. Share the story and the Kickstarter link with those you know and a few that you don’t. Sure it may be weird at first. But you and I both know that you need to get out more and make some new friends, anyhow.

I definitely won’t say it’s what you ought to do as a Christian, because honestly that’s kind of a sleazy tactic to guilt people into doing something and it cheapens both our community and the art we produce.

But if you genuinely like the Wingfeather Saga stories, or even the idea of it sounds intriguing and you’d like to see it made then hop on board and partner with us as we seek to bring a great story and a little light to the world.

Fantasy Fun Month sneaked up on me.

Rebecca LuElla Miller has been hosting the conversation, mostly at our Facebook page (follow us there!). I searched the hashtag on the social-network site, which reporter 1,000 people were talking about this. Well, that’s a start and no mistake.

Rebecca’s Monday post for Day 13 reminded me that I have a long way to go before I have read more fantasy novels, which you kids have possibly read more than once by now.

The same is true of today’s Day 17 topic: “Book Better than Movie.”

Here I feel as an alien among you fantasy fans.

I feel like this because I am perhaps infamously tolerant when it comes to book-to-movie changes, at least for the films I’ve seen. Comic-book-to-movie changes don’t annoy me because I never read comics growing up and only have a few graphic novel books today:

• 

  Green Lantern (2011) was not as good as the comic books, but I did not know that at the time.

  Fans despised Green Lantern (2011) for reasons I learned later; I enjoyed the movie and found the predestined-to-be-a-space-hero themes particularly evocative at the time.

• Fans howled over The Mandarin twist in Iron Man 3 (2013); I thought the movie was a blast, better than Iron Man 2, and found the villain twist an amusing genre subversion.
• (And I don’t holler when Superman is forced into a no-win situation in which he must kill a supervillain to save a life, because that’s how morality works in our real universe.)

I co-wrote a whole series about that last. I’ve also defended The Lord of the Rings and even (gasp) The Hobbit film trilogies, despite their book-to-film departures (more so the letter).

Like that escaping-in-barrels scene in the book: it’s far too silly for a movie version. The screenwriters should have cut it.

Perhaps my inner screenwriter rises to give an apologetic. If a screenwriter says “That worked in the book, but can’t work in a movie,” I’m open to hearing that argument. After all, nostalgia can blind us to genre differences and even to our favorite books’ flaws.

Also part of me wants to become a cruel, efficient editor of things that don’t belong. When I read books I enjoy, I can’t help but think, “Yes, this would work in a movie,” and “No, that would not work, cut it.” There’s a bad assumption here: that books are only movies waiting to happen. (Which makes it a tragedy that J.K. Rowling skipped straight to her next movie.)

But what about books that are better than movies? My first answer is easy:

Now available in bargain Blu-ray bins at Walmart for $4.99.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis.

The 2010 movie version was a disaster. It (nearly?) doomed the Narnia film franchise. It ignored the book’s gilded, medieval-solar themes of honor, adventure, yet sacrificing both those just for a glimpse of Aslan’s Country—a world that transcends all our hopes. In place we heard “brave” themes about believing in one’s self and following dreams, as opposed to all those movies that urge us to ignore ourselves and declare the heck with our dreams.

Even worse, unlike, say, Disney princess movies, Dawn Treader movie wasn’t even a good movie about those shallow themes. This one took on water and rapidly sank into nonsense. Some would say the movie needed to find a unifying purpose for the journey that is rather episodic in the book. The results were somehow worse, more slipshod and episodic.

It’s hard to believe the same two screenwriters went on to write Captain America: The First Avenger amazing. Then they got even better with Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and are now in charge of Captain America: Civil War and now even Avengers: Infinity War.

So in summary: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was terrible. The book was far better.

Yet I would say the same for the other Narnia films:

• The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was well-made, faithful, and original as a movie, yet with too many modern flourishes that underplayed Lewis’s themes. Book = better.
• Prince Caspian was also well-made, yet less faithful to the book. I was okay with this; here the movie could have been better than the book. But it was weighted by modern flourishes and some cheesy lines about belief that some writers think honor the pious.
• And as fun as the three older BBC films can be (especially when you’re a pre-adolescent and that’s what Santa gave this year) the books are far, far better than the BBC films.

I can’t think of other films that don’t live up to the books they are based on. But perhaps that is because I, alas, did not read a lot of fantasy growing up. Yet again, I may have the advantage, because then I’m not as automatically disappointed when movies based on books I love fail to capture the images and sensations I’ve already imagined for them.

What movies-based-on-books were not as good as the books?

What movies-based-on-books were perhaps better than the books?

In case you haven’t heard, March is Fantasy Fun Month, where every day posts about fantasy favorites—from characters to maps—flood social media.

Yesterday, Rebecca Miller posted about fantasy quotes. I figured why not continue the fantasy love, this time exploring fantasy books often lost in the shadow of their epic comrades.

Everyone likes to talk about the popular books.

What’s the bestselling fantasy series ever? What are the top 100 books from the 20th century? What were the top ten science fiction books from last year?

Today, I’m going to ignore all that and point you toward some books that probably won’t ever be mentioned in top 100 lists or popularity polls.

Three books, to be precise.

• The Book of the Dun Cow – Walter Wangerin Jr.
• The Children of Hurin – J.R.R Tolkien
• Kiriath’s Quest – Rick Barry

Are they mind-blowing?

No.

Are they groundbreaking in the fantasy genre?

No.

But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth reading. In fact, the opposite is true.

Here’s why.

The Book of the Dun Cow

Don’t let the cover and title fool you.

For something that has the markings of a simple children’s book, The Book of the Dun Cow is surprisingly dark and deep. It deals with real-world problems such as the presence tyranny, while at the same time exploring themes such as courage, leadership, and the battle between good and evil.

It’s not really about the dun cow, it’s about Chauntecleer the rooster who rules the land around his Coop and protects the other animals. Until an evil enemy arises and threatens to destroy them, testing Chauntecleer and forcing the animals to unite.

As fantasy goes, it’s not a long book, but it packs the punch of a short boxer. I can honestly say I’ve never read anything like it. A combination of fable and allegory. The story isn’t what you would expect in traditional fantasy and that freshness makes it worth reading.

Plus, any book with a rooster as the main character that doesn’t end up sounding cheesy or stupid deserves attention.

The Children of Hurin

This standalone book takes place as part of the Middle-earth saga. A story plucked from the vast history Tolkien created. If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, chances are you’ve read this. Consider this a public service announcement for the uninformed masses.

If you’re a Tolkien fan and haven’t read it, what in the world are you waiting for?

Although it’s a fantasy book set in Middle-earth during the First Age, The Children of Hurin is also a tragedy in the vein of Shakespeare. Hurin opposed Sauron and paid for it with a curse on his family. The book focuses mainly on Hurin’s two children, Turin and Niënor, and the trials they endure because of that curse.

Yep, it’s depressing, maybe too much so. If you’re not into grim outcomes, you might not enjoy it. A book for a rainy day.

Still, it’s Tolkien. Worth a shot, right? 😉

Kiriath’s Quest

This was one of the first fantasy books I read—other than the Chronicles of Narnia—and I thoroughly enjoyed it. As a standalone novel, it doesn’t have the sweeping, epic saga feel that other fantasy books do, and that’s one of its charms.

The book follows the story of Kiriath, prince of Xandria on his journey to save his captured father—a nice twist on the classic quest. Along with his two friends, he goes through a series of adventures on the way to preserving his kingdom.

There’s magic, flying serpents, living vines that attack people, and plenty of action and adventure. Kiriath’s Quest has the feel of fantasy while at the same time giving a fresh take on it.

If you want a fun, short, entertaining read, it’s worth the time.

More Reading

There, I’ve added to your endless list of to-read books. These books might not have the same widespread appeal as Harry Potter or resonate as deeply as Lord of the Rings does, but if you’re in the mood for a different take on fantasy, they’re worth checking out.

They’re short by fantasy standards, so you can read them in much less time than it would take to plow through the latest Brandon Sanderson epic.

Who knows, you might fall in love with a new character, discover a world that fires your imagination, or gain a new perspective on life.

After all, that’s what reading is about.

Have you read any of these books? What are some lesser-known fantasies you’ve enjoyed?

*This post appeared in original form in March, 2015, at zacharytotah.com