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Fantasy: An Indispensable Way To Understand Ourselves

Fantasy is the outcome of our contemplation on basic life questions: Why and how are we different from other animals? What is death and why? With fantasy, our minds use complex metaphors to bridge the gap across the unknown in order to broaden and inform what we do know.
on Jan 15, 2016 · No comments

“The problem . . . is that whereas adults are readily aware of myths they have outgrown, they are blind to ones that they currently hold to be real.” – Carl Johnson

fairytalesLike Peter Pan, too many of us enter the “real world” of adulthood and forget how to fly. Our wings are clipped by failing to preserve the imaginative vitality of our childhood. The result is a life that never reaches maturity, for many things about life and ourselves can only be explored through fantasy.

It’s In Our Blood

Fantasy is not merely the result of adults telling children wild stories. In his book, From Two to Five, K. Chukovsky relates a telling story about how the minds of children work. Though it is easy for us to believe that realism is what our children need and that we shouldn’t fill their minds with fantasies, the work of scientist E. I. Stanchinskaia tells a different story. From infancy, she kept her son from unrealistic folk tales and fantasies and only read him simple realistic stories taken from the world of reality and nature. She only presented him with things that could be empirically verified.

The Result?

Despite all this, Stanchinskaia’s son generated his own fantasies. There were imaginary elephants, bears, and friends in his room. The rug he sat on was a ship. He was a reindeer when it snowed, and on and on. Although he had been kept from any hint of fantasy, he acted as though he’d been raised with it. He behaved like any imaginative child would.

Making Reality More Visible

Since fantasy is so embedded in our lives, it is no surprise that by age three, children are able to recognize the difference between an imaginary world and the reality that they live in (Woolley, 1997). After all, the word “fantasy,” which comes from the Classical Greek word “phantasia,” means “to make visible.” Why, then, shouldn’t it make our reality more visible, more understandable?

Filling In The In-Between

Fantasy is a result of learning about life through language. Some of our earliest conceptual explorations are with opposites, such as when we find the warm that sits between hot and cold. But what is between life and death or a human and an animal? What we discover in our inventions between these opposites is the stuff of all the fantasy stories and myths in our world, from ghosts to zombies, mermaids to werewolves, elves to talking mice.

Bridging The Gap By Pretending

fairytales2Fantasy is the outcome of our contemplation on basic life questions: Why and how are we different from other animals? What is death and why? With fantasy, our minds use complex metaphors to bridge the gap across the unknown in order to broaden and inform what we do know.
Thus, when a child pretends he sees or is, he is crucially engaging in understanding himself and his world. Part of his journey of self-discovery involves experiencing different modes of being.

A Fairytale Can Inform Reality

The Scottish philosopher, Alasdair MacIntyre, believed that our lives only make sense to us through the telling of stories. He said that it is through the myths and tales of childhood that we understand how to act in our own dramas and understand our own world.

Essential Help To Navigate A Complex World

The world is more complicated than the pragmatic would have us believe. If it weren’t, then why would we need poets, painters, and storytellers? If we believe that empirical knowledge is all our children need to navigate the world, then we are in danger of denying the most important things in the world: the inexpressible things.

The truth is that we need every tool at our disposal to even weakly grasp a meaningful understanding of ourselves and our world. And metaphor—indeed fantasy—is at the top of that list of tools.

– – – – –
BrentKingBrent King is a freelance writer of Christian fantasy and historical fiction from Lake Oswego, Oregon. His debut novel, The Fiercest Fight, was published in November 2015. Find him on Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, Goodreads, and his website.

The Silver Chair Movie Should Follow These Four Signs

“The Silver Chair” can follow four signs to restart (not reboot) “The Chronicles of Narnia” film series.
on Jan 14, 2016 · 2 comments
The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

“Remember, remember, remember the book.”

Today I am ducking out of a hiatus from new SpecFaith articles, because on Tuesday big news broke for Christian fantastical fans about The Silver Chair.

At the [Television Critics Association] press tour, producer Mark Gordon let it drop that they’re “hoping to be able to make [The Silver Chair] very shortly. We’re very excited about it.” …

“It’s all going to be a brand new franchise,” Gordon told Collider. “All original. All original characters, different directors, and an entire new team that this is coming from.” Gordon later clarified that the new “original characters” will be from Narnia.

The Silver Chair is C.S. Lewis’s fourth entry in the “Chronicles of Narnia” series.

Film adaptations of the classic fantasy stories have been stalled since 2010, then Walden Media and 20th Century Fox attempted to continue the Walden/Disney franchise with The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The lackluster1 film quickly sank in the eyes of both critics and audiences.

We shared The Silver Chair news Tuesday night at the at the SpecFaith Facebook page (follow us). A rousing discussion ensued. Some remained uncertain what “original characters” meant. Would this film not feature Eustace Scrubb, returning from Dawn Treader, and his friend Jill Pole? In this case what did “reboot” mean? Could this work?

Here are four signs The Silver Chair can follow to reinvigorate the “Narnia” films.

1. Promote The Silver Chair not as a ‘reboot,’ but a fresh restart

The word “reboot” generally refers to a complete reset of a film series. Reboots of Batman and Spider-Man films did not just recast actors and producers. They also reset the story.

The Silver Chair should not reset any story. It would be a completely new and fresh story, with many characters—Eustace, King Caspian, Aslan—continuing from previous stories. Articles and marketing about the film would best refer not to a “reboot,” but a “restart.”

2. Follow Lewis’s own way of restarting his series with The Silver Chair

The Silver Chair was published in 1953. It’s the fourth volume in Lewis’s series, after a starter “trilogy” consisting of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; Prince Caspian; and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The first three books follow four and then two child heroes, the Pevensies. The books have similar beginnings, images, story structures, and themes.

But The Silver Chair goes in a completely different direction in many ways, such as:

  • The first three books are set in Narnia or among Narnians. The Silver Chair leaves Narnia and its customs behind for most of the story.
  • The first three books have very “Christian hedonistic” themes.2 But The Silver Chair explores the surrender of delights to perform one’s duty.
  • The first three books are like extended fairy tales. The Silver Chair is almost startlingly contemporary in its darker and more brooding approach—more like a dark fairy tale.
  • Accordingly, the first three books are filled with greens and golds, crimsons and silvers. The Silver Chair’s palette is dim greens and pale grays, like de-saturated movie visuals.
  • The first three books emphasize pursuit of delight in Aslan and his creation. The Silver Chair emphasizes stone-hard, dying-to-self obedience to the Lion.
  • The first three books have far happier endings. The Silver Chair’s finale is hopeful yet more heartbreaking. At the center of a very delightful series the story offers a pale, sobering weight, in a manner unique to the Chronicles. Only The Last Battle is similar.

Filmmakers who understand this contrasting approach will find that this is really the “more savage place” version of Narnia that director Andrew Adamson attempted in Prince Caspian (2008). Maturing the story was not a bad idea. But the idea came two films early.

3. Embrace the story’s ‘contemporary’ structure

The Lion … was an easier story to adapt faithfully for the screen. Prince Caspian, not so much. And Dawn Treader’s episodic-yet-unified plot somehow perplexed the filmmakers.

For modern storytellers The Silver Chair is shiny and stable. We have an overt quest: find the lost prince. We have a repeatable formula complete with a perfect hashtaggable slogan: #RememberTheSigns. We have a dark, brooding story set not in an idyllic fantasyland but a ruined wasteland. And we have (to the delight of those who shoehorned The White Witch into both the Caspian and Dawn Treader films) a villain much like The White Witch.

Lewis even throws in hero children who bicker and squabble, more like the “realistic” view of a scriptwriter and less like the relatively better behaved Pevensie children.

This should be easy to adapt faithfully while also satisfying modern expectations of movies.

4. Don’t think bigger, but deeper

As a fantasy franchise restart, The Silver Chair may benefit from lower expectations and a lower budget. There’s less of a chance makers will aim at being “the next Harry Potter” or “the next The Lord of the Rings.” Instead they may try to make a great “little” fantasy film.

The story can go deeper by exploring images and ideas other films have not done.

  • Avoid pouring CG onto the screen. Follow newer film trends and emphasize practical effects and on-location shoots. Giants should be real people, enlarged. Many of the gnomes should be real people, in prosthetics. For this much of the budget can already be saved because much of the story is set underground—cave sets are easier builds!
  • Avoid Eustace’s and Jill’s bickering for the sake of bickering. Follow the book, in which their squabbling serves a purpose: to show us why they did not follow Aslan’s signs.
  • Avoid a great climactic battle.3 Follow the book’s “deeper” finale with imagery that symbolizes the Witch’s defeat, at the hands of heroes who forsake their own dreams of comfort and easy answers and simply choose to obey Aslan.
  • Preserve these instructions verbatim from Aslan:

“… Remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whatever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs. … Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters.”

  1. I am being very kind. Back in 2013 I remarked, “Dawn Treader exchanged Lewis’s episodic exploration of wholehearted surrender to adventure and glory, for a videogame-like quest with ‘believe in yourself’ themes. The book emphasizes giving all to see Aslan’s Country (Narnia’s ‘heaven’) even for an instant; the film climaxes with a final sea-serpent battle on an island where nightmares come true, re-envisioned as the source of a green cloud that eats people. After the battle, one character spies Aslan’s Country. ‘Well, we’ve come this far,’ he says flippantly before they hop on by. They have won a trip to Disney World, yet they treat it like a stop at McDonald’s.” ↩
  2. Aslan vanquishes the winter of a witch who condemns “self-indulgence,” replacing her stone-cold land and restoring the merry place he created. Non-magical Telmarines are defeated by an uprising of magical creatures. Dawn Treader voyages to dazzling and sensual islands. ↩
  3. Yet I would not argue if the makers added skirmishes with Earth-men before they are set free en masse. ↩

Eat Right and Exorcise

What if a Christian author took that bold step and blended the obscene with the holy (and wrote an awesome story too)? What would be people’s reactions?
on Jan 13, 2016 · 4 comments

A couple of y1757498ears ago, I blazed through William Blatty’s The Exorcist. It pretty much blew my mind into a million pieces. I’ve never seen the film and though I already knew the general idea, the book was very nearly a masterpiece.

It also got me thinking: demon possession is real (and so are exorcisms, though I don’t necessarily believe in the ritualized Catholic version – a simple “I cast you out in the name of God!” was good enough for Jesus’ disciples). Anyway, the terrifying behavior that Blatty describes is also real (The Exorcist is purportedly based on true events), and I applaud him for telling a nuanced story of skepticism, faith, doubt, psychiatry, trauma, and impossible phenomena, rather than just a spooky battle of wills and crucifixes. I wouldn’t label The Exorcist as a Christian book; to me, it draws similar parallels to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, in that resolute faith in God’s power and recognition of man’s unworthiness are essential to defeating the devil and his lies, though distinct Christian doctrine is only referenced indirectly.

But what if a Christian author penned an explicitly Christian book and included all of the withering obscenities and graphic vulgarity that Blatty uses? Not just to shock and horrify, but to ground their story in reality? In documented demonic possession accounts, the most filthy, vile language and actions take place. In some of my books, Satanism is a major theme and I allude to perversions and rituals, but it’s mostly done for melodrama and atmosphere. But what if a Christian author took that bold step and blended the obscene with the holy (and wrote an awesome story too)? What would be people’s reactions? I am sure there are plenty of “true” accounts of things like this, but what would happen if the author wrote a story that was pure fiction, yet chose to include graphically horrifying elements?

Conservative Christians and churches would probably decry it outright, and perhaps within reason. Just because something is compelling and real doesn’t mean it needs to be dwelt upon. But stuff like this isn’t just the product of demented authors looking for twisted ways to goose the audience; it’s documented and real in some form or another. I just wonder how the Christian market would respond.

The Problem With Superhero Movies

I’m a huge Marvel fan, so it’s an understatement to say I love superhero movies. Despite my abounding enthusiasm, I’ve begun to grow wary of such movies. Not due to lack of execution or general boredom, but because of what the […]
on Jan 12, 2016 · 5 comments

I’m a huge Marvel fan, so it’s an understatement to say I love superhero movies. Despite my abounding enthusiasm, I’ve begun to grow wary of such movies. Not due to lack of execution or general boredom, but because of what the future may hold.

The problem is this: after a while, the plots, characters, battles, smash ‘em scenes—they begin running together. A river of repeats that instead of standing out in stark, interesting ways contentedly flows along in its success.

Which points to the intriguing problem of continuing on the established path versus branching out and taking risks. ‘Tis the bane of storytellers. How can we craft a compelling, original story that captures the imagination and attention of the audience, while remaining moored to the pier of proven history?

A Delicate Balancebalancing

What’s your favorite superhero movie? In what ways did it stand out, cause you to think, make you go rigid in anticipation of what lurked ahead? What set it apart from the deafening throng of other superhero movies crowding the entertainment industry like cosplayers at a comic con?

In the past ten years or so, movies centered on people with amazing powers have emerged from the shadowed corner of loyal fandom into the consciousness of mainstream entertainment. Thanks in large part to the success of the Marvel franchise, superhero movies are in vogue.

Two of this year’s most-anticipated movies are Civil War and Dawn of Justice. At this point, the engine driving the trend isn’t important. What is, however, is the path leading forward.

If Hollywood keeps pumping viewers full of endless CGI, bigger explosions, more largescale destruction, it will eventually morph into a cacophony of meaningless noise. People will still watch and enjoy them, because above all, our culture demands an entertainment value emphasizing the thrill, the visual grandiosity, over thought-provoking content.

Yet at the cost of truly inventive stories.

Understanding and fulfilling viewer preferences and expectations is important in any form of entertainment. But a balance is necessary. If we don’t see any innovation, any injection of storylines that blaze a new path, the familiar elements will grow dull and unexciting.

The Problem

You know the old saying, “You can have too much of a good thing.” Loathe as we sometimes are to admit it—mostly when it refers to cherished favorites—this stands true. In the case of superhero movies, too much of a good thing could lead to disaster.

boredThe more movies I watch, the more I notice patterns, repetitions, familiar elements. Nothing wrong with that—until it becomes cliché to the point of monotony. Same reactions, same lines, same outcome, same motives.

The problem is simple: superhero movies keep returning to same well for their content.

Since Marvel currently rules the superhero galaxy, I’m going to pick on them. (Heresy, I know.) Marvel movies sorely lack compelling villains—not include Loki, because he’s awesome. Yeah, they add some flair, a target for the hero to pursue, and excuses to blow up and smash more buildings, but their motivations and intentions rarely explore new avenues.

The job description for these villains, with variations, fits into one simple phrase: world domination.

How about something new for a change?

The Strong Weakness

This may sound like a contradiction, but another problem with superhero movies is the focus on all the awesome things they can accomplish with their powers. Which is great because it appeals to us and makes for some electrifying exploits. At the same time, such an emphasis undercuts other aspects of the story that would add depth, complexity, and meaning.

Not all superhero movies are guilty of this, but place them on a scale, and the flashy, pulse-pounding movies easily outweigh the ones containing a compelling narrative.

What Does the Future Hold?

Right now, Marvel rules supreme, but DC is attempting to play catch-up. Superhero movies are here to stay in the foreseeable future.

As we move into Marvel’s Phase 3, I’m interested to see how stories such as Doctor Strange will add a new and much-needed twist to the superhero landscape. On the DC side of the house, Suicide Squad has potential to be highly fascinating as well. Its unique approach could provide a breath of fresh air.

And of course, we have Civil War (can’t May be here already?). Pitting superheroes, once team members and friends, against each other is a recipe for an outstanding story. Let’s hope the execution does justice to the potential.

What are your thoughts on superhero movies?

My Take: The Force Awakens

There’s an interesting nod to behavior psychology, too, and the strength of the human will—both for good and for ill. The idea seems to be that “training” can only be successful to a certain degree, but ultimately the person has the final say about what they will or won’t do.
on Jan 11, 2016 · 4 comments

screencap_starwarsepisodeviiYes, I finally went to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I successfully avoided early reviews and spoilers, and as a result, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie experience. Here are my reflections, sanitized to keep away from spoilers so that I don’t ruin the movie for any of you who may not have seen it yet.

First, here’s what I liked:

!. The movie was of the same quality as the first ever Star Wars movie—before the nonsensical prequels that have come to be known as numbers one, two, and three (though they were made fourth, fifth, and sixth).

2. There was a good balance between action-adventure and relational intrigue.

3. The story was well-written, with good external and good internal conflict.

4. The movie had some humor, but it wasn’t overdone, and it didn’t try too hard, as some of the latter movies in the franchise did.

5. The actors all did a good job. I didn’t think there was a weak performance in the bunch.

6. The visuals were impressive—more scenery than I remember from the previous movies, and of course the special effects were top notch.

7. The plot held surprises.

8. The characters seemed realistic—they had flaws and strengths alike, and they related to each other the way real people do.

Things that didn’t spoil the movie but that I’d rather have been different:

1. Some plot elements were too similar to the first Star Wars movie.

2. A better idea of who or what the antagonist is (were we seeing a hologram?)

Things the movie made me think about:

"Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens" bannerThe main topic came from a discussion I had before I saw the movie. Apparently some Christians were taking a stand against the movie—something I don’t remember from Star Wars number one. Ironically, the friend I was with said her pastor had mentioned it in a recent sermon because of its strong portrayal of good versus evil. In other words, some Christians apparently see the movie as containing questionable elements and some, positive elements.

I can only assume the questionable stems from “the force.” It’s true that “the force” is a concept that contradicts Christianity, but nothing about movie number seven is different from the previous movies in that regard. In fact, from my perspective “the force” doesn’t have the same religious feel it had under George Lucas’s writing.

In many regards, “the force” felt more like magic than supernatural. The premise, as the title indicates, involves the power known as the force, with its good aspect and its evil aspect, becoming active in the world again.

Clearly “the force” is not an equivalent for God because it has this yin-yang aspect to it—a positive and a negative, a good and an evil, a light side and a dark side.

The thrust of the movie is that people can choose whether to go to the light or to the dark. This idea is not so far from Harry Potter and the good magic-dark magic dichotomy those books and movies presented.

In essence, the dark side of the force and dark magic are nothing more than stand-ins for evil and its supernatural origin. In the same way, the light side of the force and good magic represent God.

Luke Skywalker confronts Darth Vader in the climax of "Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back."The greatest problem with this understanding is the way it presents life as a duality, as if there are two equal and opposites in the world.

Christianity says, no. God and Satan are not equal. Though surely Satan is in opposition to God, I’m not sure it’s accurate to portray him as opposite. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient or omnipresent. His rule only comes because God allows it, so he’s not sovereign. He is in rebellion, however, and looks stronger than he actually is.

As a writer, I found the inclusion of religious type themes intriguing. Again, this is nothing new since the entire Star Wars franchise is built on this struggle between the light and the dark sides of the force. Nevertheless, the admission of a “force” seems to be an admission that there is a “supernatural” power with which humans must deal.

There’s an interesting nod to behavior psychology, too, and the strength of the human will—both for good and for ill. The idea seems to be that “training” can only be successful to a certain degree, but ultimately the person has the final say about what they will or won’t do.

I suspect that point resonates with most people and may be one reason the movie is so popular. Not to mention that it’s just great entertainment.

Fiction Friday – Oath Of The Brotherhood

In a kingdom where the Old Ways hold fast and a man’s worth lies entirely in his skill with the sword, Conor Mac Nir is a scholar, a musician, and a follower of the forbidden Balian faith: problematic for any man, but disastrous for the son of the king.
on Jan 8, 2016 · No comments

Carla Laureano

Oath Of The Brotherhood

Book 1 in The Song Of Seare Trilogy
By C. E. Laureano

Introduction

Young Adult fantasy published in 2014 by TH1NK, an imprint of NavPress.

In a kingdom where the Old Ways hold fast and a man’s worth lies entirely in his skill with the sword, Conor Mac Nir is a scholar, a musician, and a follower of the forbidden Balian faith: problematic for any man, but disastrous for the son of the king.

When Conor is sent as a hostage to a neighboring kingdom, he never expects to fall in love with the rival king’s sister, Aine. Nor does he suspect his gift with the harp (and Aine’s ability to heal) touches on the realm of magic. Then his clan begins a campaign to eliminate all Balians from the isle of Seare, putting his newfound home in peril and entangling him in a plot for control of the island that has been unfolding since long before his birth.

Only by committing himself to an ancient warrior brotherhood can Conor discover the part he’s meant to play in Seare’s future. But is he willing to sacrifice everything―even the woman he loves―to follow the path his God has laid before him?

Excerpt

cover_OathOfTheBrotherhoodThe mist hung from the branches of the ancient trees like threads from a tattered banner, though the last vestiges of sunlight still glimmered on the horizon. Conor Mac Nir shivered atop his horse and tugged his cloak securely around him, then regretted the show of nerves. He had already seen the disdain in the eyes of the king’s men sent to escort him. There was no need to give them reason to doubt his courage as well.

A weathered, scarred man on a dun stallion made his way from the back of the column and fell in beside him: Labhrás Ó Maonagh, Conor’s foster father.

“It’s too quiet,” Labhrá said, his gaze flicking to the dark recesses of the forest. “The animals have gone to ground—they sense the unnatural. Keep your eyes open.”

The twenty warriors quickened their pace, battle-hardened hands straying to their weapons for reassurance. Conor gripped his reins tighter. Now he understood the comfort a sword brought. Not that it would be of any use to him. He would be no help against dangers of the human kind, let alone whatever lurked in the mist.

He felt no relief when the road broke away from the trees, revealing the first glimpse of Glenmallaig’s earthen ramparts and the stone dome of the keep within. The mist had already found a foothold, wreathing the top of the walls and giving the impression they stretched unendingly skyward. The moat’s stale waters lapped at the base of the walls. Glenmallaig made no pretensions about being anything but a fortress, solid and impregnable.

“Steady now,” Labhrá murmured.

Connor drew a deep breath. Few knew how much he dreaded this homecoming, but Labhrá was one. Other men might have taken the honor and considerable financial rewards of fostering King Galbraith’s son without a thought to the responsibility it entailed, but Lord Labhrá had raised him as he would have brought up his own child. By contrast, the king had not shown a shred of interest in Conor for his entire seventeen years.

He swallowed hard and tried to disappear into the folds of his cloak as the drawbridge descended toward the bank. The leader of their escort gave a terse signal, and the procession lurched forward amidst a thunder of hooves on timber. Conor shuddered as he passed into Glenmallaig’s courtyard, a wash of cold blanketing his skin—too cold, considering the fast-approaching spring. The carts carrying Labhrá’s tribute to the king clattered across behind them, and the bridge once again crept upward.

Inside the courtyard, wood smoke and burning pitch drifted on the air, stinging his nose. It should have been a welcome vignette, but the orange firelight only cast the mist-filled courtyard in a sickly yellow glow. Conor cast a glance over his shoulder just as the drawbridge thudded shut, sealing off the life he’d left behind him.

Foolish thoughts. Conor shook them off as he dismounted and winced at the twinge in his muscles as they adjusted to solid ground. A hand on his elbow steadied him, the iron grip incongruous with its owner’s graying hair and finely lined face.

“Home at last,” Dolan said under his breath, a tinge of irony in his voice. More than merely a devoted retainer, the manservant had become a friend and confidant over the nine years of Conor’s fosterage at Balurnan. Dolan knew better than anyone the fears Conor’s return stirred within him.

A pale, skeletal man descended the steps of the double-door entry, headed for the captain. After a moment of quiet conversation, he strode in their direction with a cautious smile. Conor squinted, then drew a sharp breath. The last time he had seen Marcan, the steward of Glenmallaig had been in the bloom of good health, commanding the household with a mere word. Now his clothing hung from a gaunt frame, and shadows marked the pale skin beneath his eyes. Surely the mere passage of time couldn’t have effected such a transformation.

“Welcome, my lord Conor,” Marcan said with a bow, his voice as calm and capable as ever. “Your old chamber has been prepared for you. Come.”

Dolan gave him a nudge, and, reluctantly, Conor followed Marcan up the front steps into the great hall. Torches threw flickering light on the cavernous room, from its rush0covered floor to the curve of the ceiling, though they could not quite dispel the shadow at its apex. Conor’s gaze settled on four unfamiliar men standing before the dais that held the king’s throne. From their elaborately embroidered clothing, he guessed three of them to be lords of the realm. The fourth’s clean-shaven head and plain robes marked him as a cleric.

The priest turned, revealing the black tattoos that etched his neck and curled up behind his ear. Conor halted as he met the piercing blue gaze, unable to summon the will to move. The sensation of a thousand insects scrambled over his skin.

Lord Labhrá’s solid form cut off his view, breaking his trance. “Take Conor to his chamber,” Labhrá told Dolan. “I’ll be up directly.” Only when the servant took Conor by the shoulders and turned him down the adjacent corridor did he realize he was trembling.

Who was the man? And what had just happened? Conor struggled for breath as they ascended a long flight of stairs, a pang of foreboding striking deep in his gut. He gave his head a sharp shake to clear away the sluggishness. Only once he was halfway up the stairs did he regain enough clarity to survey his surroundings.

They looked completely unfamiliar.

– – – – –
Oath Of The Brotherhood is available in paperback or as an ebook.

Pretense or Reality

Last week I came across an article titled, “Are Droids Slaves?” The droids in question were the droids of Star Wars, and the answer was so unequivocally Yes I wondered why they bothered with the diffident headline.
on Jan 6, 2016 · 3 comments

Last week I came across an article titled, “Are Droids Slaves?” The droids in question were the droids of Star Wars, and the answer was so unequivocally Yes I wondered why they bothered with the diffident headline. “Droids Are Slaves” would have suited the article better, and “Droids Are Slaves, And the Rebels Are Rotten, Lowlife Slave-Masters” would have truly captured its spirit. I disagreed with almost every word of the article, but it reminded me of one of the things I love most about science fiction: You get to ask such interesting questions.

The author – a Star Wars radical, I promise you – writes that he “realized that the destruction of Alderaan was not only justified, but prudent.” This is completely beside the point, but I include it because, you know. Whoa.

In its main point (to wit: droids are slaves), the article is unconvincing. The assertion that droids are slaves rests on the idea that they are sentient, and the case that they are sentient rests on huge extrapolations from small details. Hence Threepio’s exclamation “Thank the Maker!” is said to prove that droids have their own theology, and Luke’s comment on Artoo’s “devotion” means – why didn’t you think of this? – that droids have free will. Also, the fact that Artoo is told he will “learn respect” means he’s sentient, because otherwise respect “could simply be programmed.”

After a description of the droids’ capture and reselling by the Jawas – a description that paints it as a harrowing ordeal of suffering and cruelty, unlike the prudent incineration of several billion people – the author gets to the “restraining bolts”: “The very need for restraining bolts [to prevent the droids’ escape] reinforces the notion that the droids are sentient creatures with free will and their own ideas, hopes, and dreams.”

Maybe. Or maybe stolen droids are apt to go wandering back to their original owners because of programming. You weigh the theories, but I think mine is less of a leap.

The droids of Star Wars can give an appearance of sentience, but is this pretense or reality? Do they have any intelligence or will of their own, or are they only machines acting out, in a highly advanced way, the purposes, knowledge, and motivations of their inventors? I choose the second interpretation, but then, that is the way my assumptions run. I have never thought it possible for humanity to create a sentient species.

This question is never raised in “Are Droids Slaves?”, but it’s fundamental to the issue and certainly the most interesting part of the debate, with meaning far beyond one set of movies. To consider the droids slaves is not only to impute consciousness to them, but consciousness on a level with our own. star wars concept artIt is to assume that humanity can create that consciousness in other beings, can in fact create whole races. (Incidentally, this puts a whole new shade of meaning to Threepio’s “Thank the Maker!” Our intrepid author regards this as genuine droid religion – but who is the god of this religion? Because the droids’ maker is Man.)

How credible you find the idea of humanity recreating our sentience in our machines will depend a great deal on what measure you take of our sentience. If you believe that human sentience is the result of blind evolution in the physical world, then it seems logical enough that intelligent evolution in the mechanical world might also result in sentience. But if you believe that human sentience is a divine spark – is, in fact, the divine image in us – then the idea of building that divine spark into a machine is a lot more doubtful.

And this, as I said, is one of the things I love about science fiction. It leads to the most interesting questions, which can, if we’re not careful, raise the most important questions.

Why Do We Relate To Epic Journeys?

You’ve been on a journey. So have I. So has everyone through the history of the world. In fact, you’re on one right now. It might not be literal, such as traveling through Europe or flying cross-country on a business […]
on Jan 5, 2016 · 1 comment

You’ve been on a journey.Journey in a Book

So have I.

So has everyone through the history of the world.

In fact, you’re on one right now. It might not be literal, such as traveling through Europe or flying cross-country on a business trip.

It might be as simple as finishing the day at work or studying for an upcoming test, but it’s still a journey.

Our lives are an interwoven tapestry of journeys.

  • Working through school
  • Growing up
  • Getting married
  • Moving to another country
  • Finding a job

We’re familiar with this journey-thing because it’s part of us.

Books take us on journeys

That’s why we relate to stories.

Some are more epic than others, involving actual travel to new places. But even a story set in a single location—like a city—contains the journey of the main character. He or she wants to achieve something and face obstacles along the way. They have a path and want to follow it.

So do we.

The stories we read are reflections of real life.

One of the most epic journeys in literature is the quest in Lord of the Rings. A tale about the journey of four homely hobbits. Pulled from their comfortable lives, they trek across the world hundreds of miles from home. Their physical journey becomes a representation of the many figurative and literal journeys we take.

Why do we have such a connection stories like this? At its most basic, a quest is simple. Leave home. Follow that road. Do some stuff. Win the war. Go home.

We soak up the quest because in one way or another, it reflects the personal quests of our own lives. The hobbits meet enemies. They suffer hardships. They try and fail.

But they also make new friends, see new places, and partake in victories.

Sound familiar?

We’re all walking stories, whether we see it or not. Who hasn’t gone through a difficult time in life? Who hasn’t made new friends or celebrated a job well done?

In a way, when we read, we take the journey with the hobbits. We connect with them on a deeper level. Their story becomes our story. Their lives become our lives.

Bad things happen to the hobbits, but they manage to pull through. Their perseverance inspires us. We see them find hope in the midst of a trial and it encourages us to do the same.

And at the end of the day, we’ve not only read a darn good book, we’ve learned lessons that will stay with us forever.

What’s your favorite epic journey? Why? 

*This post appeared in original form on zacharytotah.com (Feb. 2015)*

A Fresh Start And Change

One reason fiction is so powerful is because of the change these characters make. They show readers that change is possible, that trials can bring strength, that hope resides on the other side of conflict because of the growth it brings.
on Jan 4, 2016 · 2 comments

Happy_New_Year_pennantsAs the new year gets underway, we often think of January 1 as an opportunity to start afresh. Thus the resolutions: this year I’ll start exercising, this year I’ll get organized, this year I’ll break the habit of procrastinating. It’s admirable to want to better ourselves, to rid ourselves of bad habits, and to start a pattern of healthier, more responsible living.

Of course statics indicate that half of all American adults no longer make resolutions—apparently we’ve tried to change and realize all our trying in the past has ended up in frustrating failure, so why continue fooling ourselves into believing that this year will be any different? Of the half that still make resolutions, only eight percent are still keeping them six months later. Most no longer do what they resolved to do by the end of January.

In fiction, few characters make resolutions though some get chances for a fresh start. Patrick Carr’s protagonist in the Staff And Sword trilogy, Errol Stone, made such a change. He was a drunk at the beginning of book one, A Cast Of Stones. Through a sequence of events, he had a chance to change and then to start afresh.

In Karen Hancock’s Guardian-King series, Abramm gets a fresh start when he escapes his life as a slave, and even a greater fresh start when he embraces the religion he’d grown up fearing and fighting.

In Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn, one of the main characters, Vin, gradually comes to an understanding of who she is and what her powers are. In essence she’s given a chance for a fresh start. She won’t go back to living in the slums with thieving crews. She’s grown too much, made too big a change to ever be satisfied with that old life, no matter what happens in regard to the external conflict she faces.

I think one reason fiction is so powerful is because of the change these characters make. They show readers that change is possible, that trials can bring strength, that hope resides on the other side of conflict because of the growth it brings.

Writers refer to the process a character goes through to change as their character arc. Here’s an excerpt from Power Elements Of Character Development that discusses this process.

PowerElementsCharacterDevelopment[1000][1]By far the greatest number of stories depict characters who exhibit growth. At the beginning the protagonist has a problem or story question that drives her actions forward. But she also has an inner life that dovetails with these outer circumstances. By the end of the story, the character has learned what she needs, made the changes her circumstances require, commits to a new course of action, and thus answers the story problem which confronted her at the beginning.

This is obviously a simplistic sketch of the character arc, but it shows an important aspect—the inner life of the character and the outer events of the plot are integrally entwined.

The need for character growth can sometimes be caused by lies or distortions a character believes about himself or the world or both. These erroneous beliefs drive him to make decisions and to act.

Sometimes his actions bring success, but not permanent change, and he is forced to come up with a better plan. More often, however, his actions fail because they were built on those false ideas.

For example, in Gone With The Wind, Scarlett O’Hara believes she’ll be happy if she can win Ashley Wilkes’s affections. She makes great plans, only to hear his announcement that he will marry someone else. She believes she must get him alone and declare her feelings for him, but when she follows through with her scheme, he spurns her advances.

Other problems intervene—the Civil War, his marriage, his wife’s devotion to Scarlett, the death of her father—and yet she persists in believing that she would be happy if only she could be with Ashley.

As events unfold, the reader begins to understand that Ashley is not the answer to Scarlett’s happiness. At long last, Scarlett herself comes to realize the truth. She is, in fact, in love with Rhett Butler, and has been for some time. However, when she makes this discovery and declares her love, he tells her she’s realized the truth too late. His love for her has died. Her erroneous belief kept her from attaining the happiness she most desired (though the end has enough ambiguity to leave her ultimate happiness still in question).

More common are stories in which the protagonist realizes the truth, takes the necessary steps in the right direction, and is rewarded in the end with what he actually needed. In a few stories, however, despite the character’s success in obtaining what he needs, he still may not accomplish his goal, though the importance of failing to do so pales in comparison to the former.

Not every character arc is built upon the character believing a lie. Some show a character’s struggle to overcome a flaw. Initially he may not realize how devastating his character weakness is, but as the story progresses, he has a moment of self-revelation that either pushes him to change or to despair.

Still other characters might believe something which no one else in their circle does. This story arc might show how the character’s beliefs are tested, how she herself is tempted to doubt in the face of failure or disappointment, then after confronting her greatest fears, how she chooses to cling to her belief no matter what.

For example, a boy just out of his teens wants to be a writer. He completes a novel and sends it out to publishers but receives rejection after rejection. As years go by and he becomes a man, his friends laugh at his “silly hobby,” his wife encourages him to find “a real job.” He picks up whatever work he can find to make ends meet, but every spare moment he’s at his computer writing another story and another and another. His rejections continue to pile up, but he believes he has the talent, he knows he has the love, and he keeps trying. Eventually his hope wanes.

At last, he experiences the turning point. His wife is threatening divorce. His friends no longer come around. He’s out of money. Again. And he’s no longer a kid or even a young man. He must get a better job to keep his house and show his wife he cares about the family, or he must publish. Here is his dark night of the soul. What will he do—cling to what he knows is true—that he was born to write—or cave and abandon his life’s work?

What he decides and how the events of the plot resolve in the face of that decision, complete his character arc. He will have either ditched his long held beliefs or held to them more tightly than ever.

So how do the characters in your favorite books change? Does their change encourage you that change is possible? Does it give you hope?

A Hopeful Future

Understanding God’s creation can be a profound act of worship, and creating in order to engage our imaginations and benefit humanity is something to be celebrated. Science is not a threat to the Christian worldview, since God is the author of all truth. Anything that is discovered will lead to Him, and anything invented reflects the creativity inherent in all humans being made in His image.
on Dec 30, 2015 · 5 comments

Everyone kn1430671ows the Hardy Boys books (and if you don’t, then you have my pity). Something about those books were very endearing and I gobbled up every single one in my county library system. There is another literary comrade of the Hardy Boys that many people may not know named Tom Swift, Jr. His father, Tom Swift, Sr. was the protagonist of a popular series in the early 20th century, having all sorts of adventures involving his inventions. The second series, centering around his son, was far more high-tech and far-reaching, with Swift, Jr. heading out to space and to the depths of the ocean. Jules Verne would have loved these books.

The Tom Swift, Jr. adventures are a classic example of post-WWII can-do American spirit and ingenuity, with challenges identified and overcome, and new discoveries over every horizon. It was very positive and hopeful science fiction in an age where fiction was continually becoming fact.

Somewhere between then and now, things took a darker turn. The Robot in Lost in Space gave way to Schwarzenegger’s Terminator. Close Encounters of the Third Kind was replaced by Independence Day. There has always been a fear of alien invasion and intelligent machines in science fiction, but they were usually campy and implausible, and there were just as many stories about gee-whiz technology and helpful alien races. In the annals of modern entertainment, you have to look hard to find benevolent extraterrestrials and friendly robots.

I’m not a historian or psychologist, but it seems that the excitement about a distant high-tech future evaporated and left a nervous fear about a high-tech future that wasn’t so distant anymore. Things like alien invasions were still the stuff of imagination, but as our world seemed to be less and less worth saving, we projected those perceptions onto the visitors from out of town. After all, would you give Earth a second glance if you were cruising by in your saucer? Probably just to blow it to pieces, the same way we would slap a spider off its web as we walked past. Throw in ubiquitous surveillance, information overload, social isolation, and rampant Internet fantasies, and the future isn’t looking so rosy anymore.

gettyimages-502234980_custom-32a756627383c1e97ae7c4620bdb407694835886-s900-c85

The first-ever launch and landing of the same space rocket.

Movies, books, and TV reflected this change, and while it wasn’t all doom-and-gloom, there seemed to be little hope for humanity’s future in our entertainment. The post-apocalyptic genre took off, and artificial intelligence became a menace lurking in the shadows of the near-future, just waiting to exterminate us fragile fleshy blobs ruled by emotion and driven by animal instincts. Things were looking especially grim around the turn of the millennium, when we were faced with the first real technological threat that we couldn’t control. Thankfully it didn’t pan out, but for how long? Skynet had to be only a few keystrokes away.

Now, as the sun sets on 2015, I’m sensing a bit of a shift again. We made it through Y2K, 9/11, and 2012. Terrorism, politics, and climate change threatens the world in varying degrees, and smartphones rule us with an iron fist, but the scientific future isn’t looking as bleak as it once did. Major figures like Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, and Elon Musk have warned about dangerous AI, but we are also seeing huge advancements that make a hopeful future seem closer than before. Mars exploration is getting a lot of attention. 3D printing is making Star Trek’s replicator a reality. SpaceX recently landed a rocket after shooting it up into space. Computer graphics and virtual reality are becoming nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. There is a lot of cool stuff happening, and it seems to me that a more positive view of science is rippling across society.

Look at the entertainment and media that has been released in the last couple of years. Movies like Interstellar, Gravity, and The Martian depict space travel and exploration as something to be embraced, not feared, even when things go wrong (of course, there will always be movies like Prometheus, but even then there was the thrill of discovery). The robots in Ex Machina and Chappie worked; it was the humans around them that were the problem. I don’t see too many freaky sci-fi stories in the year’s best-of lists. Steampunk, with its analog craftsmanship and eager appetite for invention, is exploding as it echoes the excitement of times in our history that were defined by technological and mechanical ingenuity.

As Christians, we should also delight in the advancements made in science and technology, though not always in their application. Understanding God’s creation can be a profound act of worship, and creating in order to engage our imaginations and benefit humanity is something to be celebrated. Science is not a threat to the Christian worldview, since God is the author of all truth. Anything that is discovered will lead to Him, and anything invented reflects the creativity inherent in all humans being made in His image.

I’m not saying things are getting better. All of creation groans, and I don’t expect the physical or moral decay around us to improve on its own. But I am glad that people are getting more excited about science and science fiction. Anything but those loathsome teenage vampires…

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