Once upon a time, in a little Italian village nestled at the foot of the Alps, north of Milan, there lived a humble cabinetmaker named Giuseppe who wrote a weekly home improvement column for the local newspaper. Giuseppe was happy with his simple life, but he lacked one thing to make his happiness complete: a son to inherit his business and his newspaper column.

One day, after finishing a particularly difficult chest of drawers and perhaps one too many glasses of vino, Giuseppe spent the evening carving and decorating a marionette in the form of a little boy. “I suppose if I can’t have a real son to take over the family business, you’ll have to do,” he said as he dabbed a tiny sparkle of white paint onto each of the puppet’s blue eyes. “I will call you Intaglio.” He dressed it in a set of lederhosen and an alpine hat, spent a moment admiring his handiwork, and then went to bed.

At midnight, a brilliant blue light illuminated the little workshop.  A beautiful fairy floated in through an open window and hovered over the bench where Giuseppe had propped the marionette. She sprinkled it with glitter, waved her wand, and said, “Little puppet made of oak, I grant you life, this is no joke. If you work hard and never stray, a real writer you’ll be someday.”

The puppet stirred, his wooden eyelids blinked, and he stood up on wobbly wooden legs. “I’m alive!” he shouted. “Thank you, beautiful Writing Fairy!”

“Intaglio, there will be many temptations in the wide world beyond the door of this workshop. I have filled your little oaken head with stories, but you must tell them truly, or you will never become anything more than a multijointed talking doll. And don’t quit your day job. Writing is spiritually rewarding, but it doesn’t pay much.”

“I promise, Writing Fairy. I’ll do my very best. You’ll see. Hey, I think I feel a story coming on! I’m going to start write…er…right now!”

“You do that. Farewell, Intaglio.”

So, Intaglio labored on through the night, and you can imagine Giuseppe’s surprise when he stumbled blearily into his workshop and discovered the little marionette very much alive and putting the finishing touches on a 700-page novel.

Intaglio set down his quill and clomped across the room to give Giuseppe a painful hug. “Good morning, Poppa! I’m full of life and rarin’ to write. Teach me everything you know so I can take over from you when you kick the bucket.”

“Well, I think it would be best to begin with the cabinetmaking. Writing is enjoyable, but it doesn’t pay for clothes, and coal for the stove, and fettucini, and…”

“I’m made of wood. I have no modesty, I don’t get cold, and I don’t need to eat, but I’m simply compelled to write. There will be plenty of time to learn about cabinets later.”

Guiseppe was so overwhelmed and delighted to have a son, of sorts, that he found he couldn’t deny the little puppet anything. He schooled him meticulously on the fine points of writing, but after exhausting his store of knowledge two days later, he discovered that Intaglio still wasn’t content.

“Poppa, I must learn more! I’ve got to master semicolons, and manuscript formatting, and Times New Roman 12-point font…all the many, many, many things you can’t teach me. I need to go to college.”

“But Intaglio, you haven’t even attended kindergarten. I doubt you could pass the entrance examination. Still, the University chancellor owes me a favor. Perhaps I could pull a string or two…”

The chancellor had more than one skeleton locked in the baroque cabinet he’d bought from Guiseppe, so, early the next morning, Intaglio was skipping merrily along the country lane that led to the University. It was a 30-mile hike, but wooden puppets have stamina to spare. As he passed a small cabbage farm, a cricket perched on a fence post chirped at him.

“Hey there, puppet-boy! Where you going?”

“I’m on my way to the University to get my Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. I’m a writer.”

“You don’t say. You’re the first living marionette I’ve ever met. I’ll bet there’s a great story right there.”

Intaglio told him the story of his life, so far as it went. The cricket was impressed. “I’d pay good money for a story like that.”

“Really?”

“Nah, what do I know? I’m a cricket, and I’m broke. Later.”

Intaglio rounded the next bend in the road and was promptly seized and beaten up by a pair of disreputable-looking fellows in fedoras and pinstriped suits. They stole his lunch money and tossed him into a ditch beside the road. “So, tell me,” the larger one said, “what makes you think you can bebop through our territory without repercussions?”

“You just gave me a repercussion, I think. I’m trying to get to school so I can learn how to be a better writer.”

The smaller one bent down and hoisted Intaglio to his feet. “You’re a writer? Well now, that there is a horse of an entirely different color. Myself and my colleague are also writers, and we are always on the lookout for new talent. Perhaps you would consider joining our creative writing circle.”

“I think I need to finish my degree first.  Besides, you beat me up and took my lunch money.”

“Oh, that was nothing personal. We had no idea you were part of the Brotherhood of Authors. Come with us, and we’ll ensure you are liberally reimbursed and trained in the cutting-edge techniques of modern fiction. You shouldn’t waste years of your life sitting in some stuffy classroom. What you need is to inhale the heady effluvium of a room full of writing writers. We’ll get you up to speed and on the bestseller list in no time. ‘Learning by doing,’ that’s our motto. Whattya say?”

Being a very gullible, trusting, and ambitious puppet with a short attention span and a brain composed of coarse-grained oak, Intaglio agreed immediately and accompanied the two thugs to a tumbledown shack at the center of a dense forest inhabited by wolves, exiled royalty, and senior citizens. Moments after crossing the threshold, he found himself chained to a rickety chair at a long table filled with children similarly chained to similarly rickety chairs. Everyone had a sheaf of paper in front of them, upon which they were scribbling feverishly with quill pens. The effluvium was anything but heady.

The large thug slapped a greasy, tattered parchment beside Intaglio’s stack of paper and shoved a quill into his hand. “Here’s the format. Get writing, slave.”

Intaglio squinted to read the parchment in the dim light filtering through the shack’s ragged thatch roof:

FAIRY TALE ROMANCE #436: SNOW WHITE ELLA AND THE SLEEPING FROG PRINCE

PARAGRAPH 1, LINE ONE: ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A PRINCESS. NAMED ELLA. AND A PRINCE. WHO WAS A FROG. SLEEPING.

“This is a load of pesto!” Intaglio pushed the parchment aside. “I won’t write it!”

The small thug brandished a rusty saw in Intaglio’s face. “You’ll write it, and you’ll like it. Otherwise, we start with the nose and select other parts at random when that’s gone. We’ll save your writing hand for last. Got it?”

“Got it,” Intaglio whimpered. He inked his pen and began scratching the vacuous words onto the topmost sheet of paper. Oh, what a fool I’ve been. However will I escape this horrible place?

To be continued…

You want to introduce a friend of yours to fantasy. Where do you start? That seems like a no-brainer. Start with the best — Lewis and Tolkien. But then what? What if this particular friend of yours says, I love this fantasy stuff you’ve given me — The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Ring. Love, love, love them. What should I read next? What do you say?

One suggestion I’d make is Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain. That children’s series consists of five books: The Book of Three, The Black Cauldron, The Castle of Llyr, Taran Wanderer, and The High King.

First, the books are well written. As testimony to that fact, the second in the series received the Newbery Honor, and the final book earned the Newbery Medal, the highest award given to children’s fiction.

Second, Alexander created a familiar story — good versus evil — without making it a Tolkien or Lewis knock-off. Welsh mythology influenced him, and yet he was not simply re-writing those tales. In other words, The Chronicles of Prydain expand the genre while still being part of it.

In that regard, the books are reflective of fantasy. They involve classic elements — swords and knights and quests and evil creatures to defeat. There is magic, too, both good and evil. Mostly, though, the stories are about true heroism and real royalty.

Which brings up the third reason these books are good ones to read as a gateway into further fantasy. They do what good fantasy always does — ennobles the reader. Because the central character, Taran, the Assistant Pig Keeper, learns and grows in believable ways, the reader gets a clear picture of what is best and highest, what is good and noble.

Taran is also a character readers can identify with. He wants action. He wants to accomplish great things. He doesn’t want to pay attention to lowly jobs or the simple assignments that are actually his. The combination makes him someone readers can admire but also someone to worry about because he’s prone to run ahead of where he should be.

The Chronicles of Prydain are also good books for someone relatively new to fantasy because they are fast reads. The pace is crisp, the length of each story is moderate. No one will feel bogged down in the details in Alexander’s story world.

The books also are laced with humor — especially appealing to a younger audience, but something any reader can appreciate. In that regard, some of Andrew Peterson’s work, particularly On the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten remind me of Alexander’s incorporation of humor with danger.

Here’s a short excerpt from The Book of Three. A company of friends is forming and they are getting to know each other.

Taran had been in a dungeon. A servant of the proprietor, Eilonwy, helped him to escape and also to free the other prisoner who Taran believed was the prince he’d been traveling with. Instead the man he freed turned out to be the bard Fflewddur Flam, carrying a special harp. He had just finished tying one of the harp strings that broke while he was in the midst of giving a false interpretation of an inscription on Eilonwy’s sword.

Eilonwy turned her irritation on Fflewddur. “That inscription was a very important one. It didn’t say anything about bewaring anyone’s wrath. You didn’t read it right at all. You’re a fine bard if you can’t make out the writing on an enchanted sword.”

“Well, you see, the truth of the matter,” said Fflewddur, clearing his throat and speaking with much hesitation, “is this way. I’m not officially a bard.”

“I didn’t know there were unofficial bards,” Eilonwy remarked.

“O, yes indeed,” said Fflewddur. “At least in my case. I’m also a king.”

“A king?” Taran said. “Sire . . .” He dropped to one knee.

“None of that, none of that,” said Fflewddur. “I don’t bother with it any more.”

“Where is your kingdom?” Eilonwy asked.

“Several days journey east of Caer Dathyl,” said Fflewddur. “It is a vast realm . . .”

At this, Taran heard another jangling.

“Drat the thing,” said the bard. “There go two more strings. As I was saying. Yes, well, it is actually a rather small kingdom in the north, very dull and dreary. So I gave it up. I’d always loved barding and wandering — and that’s what I decided to do.”

“I thought bards had to study a great deal,” Eilonwy said. “A person can’t just go and decide . . .”

“Yes, that was one of the problems,” said the former king. “I studied; I did quite well in the examinations . . .” A small string at the upper end of the harp broke with a high-pitched tinkle and curled up like an ivy tendril. “I did quite poorly: he went on, “and the Council of Bards wouldn’t admit me. Really, they want you to know so much these days. Volumes and volumes of poetry, and chants and music and calculating the seasons, and history; and all kinds of alphabets you spell out on your fingers, and secret signs — a man couldn’t hope to cram it all into his skull.

“The Council were very nice to me,” continued Fflewddur. “Taliesin, the Chief Bard himself, presented me this harp. He said it was exactly what I needed. I sometimes wonder if he was really doing me a favor. It’s a very nice harp, but I have such trouble with the strings. I’d throw it away and get another, but it has a beautiful tone; I should never find one as good. If only the beastly strings . . .”

“They do seem to break frequently,” Eilonwy began.

“Yes that’s so,” Fflewddur admitted, a little sheepishly. “I’ve noticed it usually happens when — well, I’m an emotional sort of fellow, and I do get carried away. I might, ah, readjust the facts slightly; purely for dramatic effect, you understand.”

Fflewddur’s frequently breaking harp strings, then, become a running joke throughout the series.

Humor, a quick pace, good writing, fresh elements within the fantasy tradition — these factors and more make me think The Chronicles of Prydain is an excellent gateway series to give someone fairly new to the genre. Of course, it isn’t the only one. What books or series would you recommend?

Last week, for the very first time, I stopped in at the Dollar General store in the little town north of us and made a purchase. The strange thing is that I’ve driven by this store thousands of times and never been tempted to stop, much less buy anything. What made the difference?

Its book cover.

Oops, not its book cover … silly me!

I meant to say its store front. They’d built a spank-worthy, new building and moved across the street. The new building looked really nice, what with its beautiful sign, black-paved parking lot, and green and groomed landscaping.

The old store was about as shabby as you could get, with a dumpy 1960’s architecture, dirty windows, and weather-beaten sign.

Were the products inside the store the same? You bet … they just moved them across the street. Were the owners and workers the same? Probably so.

And the whole episode bugged me a bit. Why had I never stopped in before? What stupidity had blinded me? They had a nice selection of products, including the carburetor cleaner I was looking for.

The truth is that the sullied outside made me think that, somehow, the products inside the store matched it — mildewed, grimy, and out-of-date. Why would I want to go there?

Let’s be honest — unless you’re in the agony of self-publishing or the angst of being published, the book cover for your novel is not something you’ve thought about. It’s all about the stuff inside, you say, and that your writing is what will sell your novel.

Granted. But let me share a little perspective from my own path to publication which culminated in a signed contract with Zondervan last month.

The writing is critical. Without it, you won’t get published. The acquisitions editor must love your writing in order to convince the editorial board, and then convince the publication board, etc.

But how do you get your book in front of the acquisitions editor? “Not with a nice book cover,” you scream at me! And you’d be right.

What you need is an agent, and how do you get an agent? By convincing him or her that they can sell your novel to a publisher. Will a book cover help convince your agent? Absolutely not.

What you need to help convince an agent (besides great writing) are endorsements. Why is this? Because endorsements tell your agent the following four facts:

1. You’ve got great writing.
2. You’ve got great writing.
3. You’ve got great writing.
4. They have a higher chance of selling your book to a publisher.

Most agents are swamped and don’t have a lot of time to read your sample chapters, much less your whole book. Endorsements from published authors not only impress them that you have connections in the industry, but that you’ve taken the time to prepare properly before contacting them. And both of these mean that you’re a serious writer on the path to publication. Think of your endorsements as your “book cover” to your agent. And the agent can use these to impress an acquisitions editor. Aha!

So how do you get endorsements? By enticing a few published authors to read your great writing. Is it easy to get people to read a novel by an unknown author? From my experience, it’s very, very, very difficult. Not only does no one have the time (hey, I’m super-busy, too!), but no one wants to wade through a huge word document full of spelling and grammar errors on their computer.

Which means the odds are against you. So what do you do? What did I do?

• First of all, I edited my novel as excellently as I could. I got my wife to edit it (she’s awesome), and a few kindly friends.
• Then I designed a book cover as professionally as I could. Was it truly professional? Not quite, but it wasn’t horrible, either. (Okay, so the big stone in the front ended up looking like a huge, glowing raisin … so what?)
• Then I printed the novel up in both hardcover and paperback to give away just for the purpose of seeking endorsements.

In short, nothing speaks the word “serious” to a published author more than a real, nice-looking, printed novel to heft in their hallowed hands.

Now, a word of caution here. If you want to improve your chances of being published, you must never offer your novel for sale. A publisher wants first publication rights. I know this is changing a bit with the rise of self-publishing, but be careful. If you self-publish, you will need to sell a LOT of copies to impress a publisher, and that is an entirely different path than what I’m talking about here.

For me, I made sure that the front matter of my printed novel said that it this edition was “unpublished” and “not for sale”. I had blog readers ask if they could buy a copy, and I turned them down.

Then I offered free copies to published authors that I had built a relationship with. If I could, I made sure to do so in person. This takes a lot of time, effort, and money. To only a couple of authors did I send the book cold turkey, and that by hand through a mutual friend.

I also included a personal letter to the author letting them know that I knew how busy they were and that there was no pressure on them to read it. If the book enticed them, then great.

Note … if you don’t have a real relationship with the author whom you’re offering the book to, expect to be rejected. Does it take time to build these relationships? Yes, and that time can often be measured in years.

You might have some legitimate questions:

Won’t this all cost some money?

• Yes, it might cost some money.
• Certainly it will cost you some effort.
• How serious are you about getting endorsements and getting published?

Can’t I get endorsements without going to all this trouble?

• Definitely.
• I just found it the easiest, most impressive way to get published authors to take my book seriously.

Won’t the effort be lost if I can’t snag an agent and harpoon a publisher?

• No. You can use your book cover to self-publish.
• And if you do get endorsements, you can use those on the back cover of your self-published book.

If I find a publisher, won’t they throw away what I’ve done and create their own book cover?

• If you find a publisher, the loss of your cover will mean very little. That is the goal, right?
• If the cover is good enough, the publisher might take it and modify it.
• If they throw out your cover, you’ll want their expertise to create something better.

Why not give out my novel in a digital format to published authors? Then I don’t need a cover.

• No doubt some will prefer to read your novel on their tablet.
• Even so, there is no getting around the fact that a real, physical novel placed in someone’s hands just begs to be read.
• For me, out of site is out of mind, and a digital book is definitely that — out of sight and easily forgotten.
• Keep in mind that some will prefer a physical novel.
• Would a nice digital cover hurt your cause?

Is this approach the only way to get published?

• Absolutely not.
• This is just one of the many things that I found helpful in my own journey.

Honestly, we all know speculative fiction has a hard time being picked up in the Christian book industry, and that has more to do with the demographics of who walks into a Christian bookstore than the quality of the writing. This means we need every advantage we can muster. And if one of the best ways to get endorsements is to package our novels professionally, then it is something you should consider.

But at least you can know this—the time you spend putting together a decent book cover will pay off one way or the other.

And those endorsements? They can also be used to get a smaller publisher interested that doesn’t require an agent.

Was I turned down by published authors? You bet. But a few read the novel… and really liked it… and wrote up endorsements.

That’s how, honestly, I impressed my agent. That’s one of the ways my agent impressed my publisher, and so here I am with MERLIN’S BLADE, book 1 of The Merlin Spiral, set to debut in February of 2013.

All because of my shiny, new store front… oops, I mean book cover.

Most Christians would agree that fiction is okay. We can enjoy fiction and not sin — even the “weird,” “gritty” stories. But Scripture never says, “Whatever does not proceed from evil motives is neutral.” It says, “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Romans 14:23). That’s a very high standard. Does enjoying fiction meet it?

Many Christians defend their fiction enjoyment by saying “it’s not sinful” or “it reminds me of the Bible.” But as noted last week, they may be tripped up by this criticism:

Christians are saved for a mission. It’s summarized by Jesus’s Great Commission (Matt. 28: 16-20). He said to go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing and teaching them. We work to spread the Gospel, organize churches, support our families, and more. Given all of those clearly defined parts of our mission, why spend time reading or defending fiction?

Missions myopia

I’ve already covered one response to this toughest fiction criticism: that critics would need to apply this criticism more fairly. If obvious Great Commission work is our chief end, why only criticize fiction? Why even wish dishes? Clean carpets? Buy new cars?

Undeniably, even foreign missionaries have downtime. The next time they come to your church, consider: much of their activity is very “unspiritual.” Hours spent in a plane flying overseas could be valuable time spent not witnessing. Once in the city or village, do missionaries spend 100 percent of their time evangelizing? No. They walk or drive, buy groceries, make home repairs like all of us. They aren’t super-spiritual beings who suddenly have no human needs and only ever preach, teach, and get persecuted.

How may even those overseas missionaries redeem their inevitable downtime? What could they do when they’re not doing those “more important things”?

I would also ask fiction critics: what motivates those “more important things”?

The same chief end we all live for: desiring and “getting” more of God through worship.

Man’s chief end

Though they are vital elements of God’s plan, Creation, Christ’s death and resurrection, and even the Great Commission, are not the goal of His Story. What is that end? The same as our chief end, as famously proclaimed by the Westminster Shorter Catechism:

Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.

Please don’t suspect that this beauty, or the wonder of great stories, only distracts from “real” worship.

And as author and pastor John Piper also famously notes, clarifying the phrase:

Man’s chief end is to glorify God by enjoying Him forever.

Who faults a Christian who is captivated by the sight and splendor of a roaring waterfall and is moved to praise God. Who says this Christian has “more important things to do”?

Rather, we know we enjoy/glorify/worship God in different ways. That includes stories.

As Russell Moore said, in an article that released the same day as last week’s column:

I’ve found that most people who tell me that fiction is a waste of time are folks who seem to hold to a kind of sola cerebra vision of the Christian life that just doesn’t square with the Bible. The Bible doesn’t simply address man as a cognitive process but as a complex image-bearer who recognizes truth not only through categorizing syllogisms but through imagination, beauty, wonder, awe.

Ever notice how few Christians view worship music as unnecessary? No one interrupts “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart” (Eph. 5:19) to claim we should be doing “more important things.” Why not? Because all these are important. All these are worship. Anything we do is (Col. 3:23).

A critic may say, “But the Bible never commands story-enjoying, only singing.”

That’s not true. Scripture gives us many examples of God-glorifying worship.

But aside from that, consider the Psalms referenced in the above verse. The songwriters of Scripture crafted art, over decades, based not only on propositional truth (the Law they loved) but the glory of God in our world. They weren’t sitting in offices writing this stuff. Imagine their walks in the wild that inspired their songs, which reference mighty leaping whales, gleaming starscapes, crackling thunderstorms, and wind-whipped tree branches, all of which praise the Lord.

To get to the worship songs, we have other, non-singing worship. We stop singing by ourselves and listen to God’s creation sing. We lose ourselves in His wonders.

And without this, we will have no incentive to evangelize or do “more important things.”

Next week: what crucial question must we ask about Story? What is that positive answer (beyond our defensive reminders that nothing is overtly sinful about stories?) By contrast, what assumptions do we often have about “the chief end of stories”? How do these contradict what Scripture assures us is “the chief end of man”?

But for now, what is your “chief end” for living, and for enjoying stories?

So my last few posts have been about who the intended audience should be for Christian fiction. Last time, I wrote about the reason why I don’t think it’s a good idea to write “milk” in Christian fiction. And I also promised to talk about some books that I think “got it right,” so to speak. So here we go.

First of all, we have Sharon Hinck‘s The Sword of Lyric books. This is apropos since she’s in the midst of re-releasing them in expanded edition form. In these books, Hinck deals with some weighty themes such as being called (in the second book) or the Christian’s response to evil (in the third). Actually, it’s not just Hinck’s fantasy books that fit the bill. I also found this “meat for believers” in her book Renovating Becky Miller. In that book, Hinck once again addresses some weighty “mature” themes in one subplot, namely the question, “Does God always think that bigger is better?” It’s these sort of themes that I wish I could see more often in Christian fiction rather than just the simpler “milk” themes. Or maybe I’ve just been reading the wrong books.

But Sharon Hinck isn’t the only example of an author who “got it right,” as far as I’m concerned. For that, we have to look at another epic fantasy, namely Karen Hancock’s Legends of the Guardian-King series.

If you want to find out more about this series, you can check out the massive re-reading review I did two years ago. And while I had some minor quibbles and gripes with the series, I still think this is an excellent series for mature Christians. Now granted, it does have a redemption aspect to the story, a “beginner’s” tale, so to speak, but it’s confined only to the first book. As Abramm Kalladorne continues his journey, Hancock doesn’t simply rehash the simpler spiritual themes that a new believer would encounter. Instead, she delves deeper. For example, in the third book, Abramm wrestles with past sins and whether or not he’s really forgiven. And again, in the fourth book, we see the question of how a believer faces off against the forces of evil.

In both cases, I think Hinck and Hancock hit the concept well. Rather than try to “cross over” to non-/new believers, they focused on the people that would read the books: Christians, ones who have been in the faith long enough that they’re looking for Christian fiction.

Now, this is just my grubby little opinion. I know that there are lots of folks who don’t agree with me. And that’s okay. Maybe I’ve been engaging in a bit of hyperbole over the past few weeks, deliberately overstating my case to get my fellow authors thinking. Who are we writing for? And what do they need to hear?

So that’s it on this one, I think. Honestly, I have no idea what to discuss next. Any suggestions? I occasionally take requests. 😉

"Amish Science Fiction...It's gonna be big."

Piggybacking on Becky’s poll, here’s a summary of the current top 10 Christian fiction bestsellers compiled by the Christian Booksellers Association (CBA) and Amazon.com as of about 2 pm CDT today. I’ve annotated them by genre, and each section links to its respective list, if you want to see the full top 20 or so. The CBA list includes one item that’s actually a non-fiction book spinning a theory about Biblical prophecy (the CBA seems to consider it dubious enough to group it with fiction), so I’ve omitted it to avoid comparing apples and oranges.

CBA Bestsellers (oddly, this listing is dated June 2012)

1. Loving, by Karen Kingsbury (contemporary romance)
2. The Fiddler, by Beverly Lewis (comtemporary romance, Amish)
3. The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club, by Wanda E. Brunstetter (contemporary, inspirational, Amish)
4. Illusion, by Frank Peretti (speculative, supernatural…hmm, interesting…blurb reads more like fantasy)
5. Leaving, by Karen Kingsbury (contemporary romance)
6. Longing, by Karen Kingsbury (contemporary romance)
7. Downfall, by Terri Blackstock (mystery)
8. Learning, by Karen Kingsbury (contemporary romance)
9. Redeeming Love, by Francine Rivers (historical romance, allegorical)
10. Courageous, by Randy Alcorn & Alex Kendrick (contemporary, inspirational)

Amazon.com Christian Fiction Bestsellers:

1. Dandelions in a Jelly Jar, by Traci DePree (contemporary, inspirational)
2. The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant (historical)
3. True Honor, by Dee Henderson (contemporary romance)
4. A Can of Peas, by Traci DePree (contemporary, inspirational)
5. Home to Harmony, by Philip Gully (contemporary, inspirational, humor)
6. Unafraid: Mary, by Francine Rivers (historical)
7. The Rescue, by Lori Wick (historical romance)
8. In This Mountain, by Jan Karon (inspirational)
9. Birth of an Age, by James BeauSeigneur (speculative, apocalyptic)
10. A Light in the Window, by Jan Karon (inspirational)

Ted Dekker’s Heaven’s Wager (speculative, supernatural) comes in at #11 on this list

As a spec-fic fan, I find those results a bit depressing, though it’s interesting how different the CBA’s list is from Amazon’s.  How about I take a quick look at Amazon’s science fiction and fantasy bestsellers? That’ll cheer me up. Places 1 through 8 are held by Charlaine Harris and George R.R. Martin, with Ms. Harris’ current Sookie Stackhouse vampire novel, Deadlocked, perched at #1, and various volumes/collections of Mr. Martin’s Game of Thrones series following after. At #9, we have Stephen King’s latest addition to his Dark Tower series, The Wind Through the Keyhole. Rounding out the top 10 is Seth Grahame-Green’s historical mashup, Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Killer.

Sigh. Not  helping. I haven’t read any of the books on these lists, with the exception of the first couple of Thrones books. I found them tedious and don’t intend to revisit that series. I saw the movie version of Courageous, but it provided me no incentive to read the book. Birth of an Age is part of something called the Christ Clone Trilogy, and I think I have a drawer full of t-shirts for having been there, done that. The Red Tent has been around for 15 years or so and has garnered quite a bit of critical acclaim. I thumbed through it once and landed in a chapter describing female purification rituals in ancient Caanan.

Eek.

Moving right along…

My wife’s a Charlaine Harris fan, and I read the first couple of Sookie Stackhouse books in an effort at solidarity, but they’re not exactly my favorite flavor, nor is Beverly Lewis, whom my wife also enjoys. If anybody wants to write an Amish vampire romance, now’s the time. Just saying.

I lost my taste for Peretti after The Visitation, I think because his stories were beginning to seem repetitive. It sounds like he’s taking a different tack with Illusion, so I might try that when I get a chance.

Lincoln vs. vampires? Please. Teddy Roosevelt vs. zombies—That’s entertainment.

More and more Christian speculative fiction is available. If in doubt about this statement, check out the Spec Faith library.

Last week I had occasion to put together a list of recently published books, primarily released from 2010 to the present. I focused on books put out by royalty paying houses. The list that I compiled was over four pages long. Single-spaced. Yet I realize I’ve left off books that should be added.

The titles on the list included fantasy, science fantasy, dystopian, science fiction, supernatural, young adult, even a middle grade title or two, as I recall. In other words, a smattering of everything.

Because of my position as an administrator with the Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Blog Tour, I probably have the opportunity to read more books in the genre than the average person. Currently I am reading the book that CSFF will feature in May, Beckon by Tom Pawlik. But I’m also reading Noah Primeval by Bridan Godawa — a direct result of his guest blog here at Spec Faith. I also started a free Kindle download by Travis Thrasher, Solitary, which will have to go on the back burner because I have two other books in the waiting — Daughter of Light by Morgan Busse (another guest blogger here at Spec Faith) and Angel Eyes by Shannon Dittemore (who we’ll be hearing from later this month).

I have to admit, I’m ecstatic that there are so many titles coming out from traditional publishers and independents alike. I’m ecstatic that a growing number of books are available on e-readers from previously unpublished writers. We have reading options at long last.

Are we capitalizing?

What are you reading?

What Christian speculative titles have you read in the last year or two?

In that regard, have you written a review of those books, either here at Spec Faith as a comment to the title in our library or for one of the online outlets such as Amazon, B&N, or Christianbooks.com?

My point is simple. If we want to see Christian speculative fiction grow as a genre, we need to read the books that are out there and we need to talk about them with our friends — real life ones and online ones. We need to help create buzz — Tweet when we download a book for free, or when we buy one; share reviews we read (or posts like this); “like” Facebook pages of authors we read; pin our own reviews at Pinterest; track our progress through a book on Goodreads; or whatever else you can do to let other readers know about the Christian speculative titles available. People can’t buy what they aren’t aware of.

So along with the titles you’re reading, the Christian speculative fiction you’ve read in the last year, tell me about your share method of choice. This should be fun! 😀

For the last few years I’ve been writing in a little backwater of a genre called “magical realism.” Most people aren’t sure what it is, but some think it’s a kind of speculative fiction.

According to Wikipedia, speculative fiction is “an umbrella term encompassing the more fantastical fiction genres, specifically science fiction, fantasy, horror, supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, utopian and dystopian fiction, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, and alternate history in literature . . . .”

With its roots sunken deeply into the supernatural, magical realism definitely fits that definition, but it didn’t make the list of examples. Part of the reason may be the way it deals with the supernatural. It’s similar enough to be confused with other speculative fiction genres, yet different enough to be left out.

Of course, there are no rigid lines between most genres. One person’s science fiction may be another person’s fantasy. But in general terms when the supernatural occurs in science fiction it’s usually explained in natural terms. Sometimes it’s a natural part of an alternative universe (although I often find it difficult to tell the difference between alternative universe type science fiction and fantasy). More often what seems supernatural in science fiction is the extension of actual scientific trajectories far into the future. Either way, the apparently supernatural is brought down to earth, so to speak, through some sort of rational explanation. In fact, a big part of the fun with science fiction comes from exploring the technology or systems that make the fantastic events and conditions of the novel possible.

Again remembering that the dividing lines between genres are not always clear, generally speaking we can say in fantasy novels the supernatural is not explained, at least not in the natural or rational terms we find in science fiction. In fact, it’s the inability to offer a rational explanation that makes a novel fantasy. Fantasy is fantastic, which is to say, “not real; conceived or seemingly conceived by unrestrained fancy; so extreme as to challenge belief.” (Webster’s) There’s usually no interest in explaining the fantastic things that happen in a fantasy novel. In fact, explanations might spoil the fun of exploring the unrestrained creativity that a fantasy novel delivers to its fans.

Magical realism gets lost in the gray area between science fiction and fantasy. It borrows something from both genres, while lacking aspects of each. Magical realism presents the supernatural as a matter of fact, almost as an everyday event, much as science fiction does. But like pure fantasy, magical realism refuses to explain itself. You’re reading a story that seems to be taking place in the real world, then suddenly the hero walks off the edge of a cliff and just keeps going, apparently immune to the law of gravity. But the author doesn’t mention gravity. The author doesn’t even remark on the strangeness of a person walking in mid air. The author simply continues telling the hero’s story as if nothing supernatural is happening, and if this defiance of gravity is a natural thing happening in the real world. That’s magical realism.

I think magical realism is a perfect fit with Christian fiction, because when you think about it, the description I just wrote almost perfectly conforms with the way the Bible deals with the supernatural. Think of the very first worlds in the Bible: “In the beginning, God created . . . .” The author of Genesis doesn’t make the slightest effort to explain who God is, or how he created the universe. We’re simply told this fantastic thing occurred—something out of nothing—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Another example: for forty years in the Sinai desert an entire nation is kept alive by bread given to them directly from heaven, one omer per person, yet the story ends with words so dry and matter of fact that they might have been a margin note in a textbook: “An omer is one tenth of an ephah.” That’s it. The end. What could be more natural?

The Bible’s stories about Jesus are particularly reminiscent of magical realism. Jesus touches two blind men’s eyes and the Bible simply says, “Immediately they received their sight and followed him.” Sight is given to the blind, but there’s no hoopla at all. Simply, “they followed him,” end of story. And in another place, when Jesus tells his disciples to pass out a few handfuls of bread and fish to five thousand people, the Bible says simply, “They all ate and were satisfied.” The story is presented as if creating something out of nothing and then using it to feed thousands of people happens every day.

Which, of course, it does.

It was while thinking about miracles, and particularly Jesus’ statement that all it takes to move a mountain is faith the size of a mustard seed, that I got a glimmer of the idea that turned into my first Christy Award-winning novel, River Rising. The question I asked myself was, “What would daily life look like for someone with that kind of faith?”

The answer surprised me. I decided if miracles were a normal part of everyday life, then miracles would no longer be miracles, at least not by the usual definition of the term. To work miracles on a routine basis would mean miracles were normal. Natural. But then of course, they wouldn’t be miracles, would they? So I wrote a story about a man like that, a man named Hale Poser, and as a result of the novel’s premise it ended up being a pretty fair representation of the magical realism genre. The supernatural became natural. Hale Poser was a man who might walk off a cliff and keep walking and not even notice, and because he did that kind of thing routinely, for him, it would be no miracle. Sort of like another man might walk on water.

Now, having several magical realism novels under my belt, I have to wonder what it says about us as a people that we feel compelled to rigorously separate speculative fiction genres from other forms of fiction which we consider more realistic. It’s a way to quickly communicate a novel’s format or style to readers, of course, so on that level there’s a practical reason. But on a deeper level it’s an interesting place to draw a line, because of course the fantastic does happen, all day every day. Water turns to ice. Electricity runs through wires. Little animals emerge from the bodies of bigger ones. People somehow find the strength to forgive each other. No one really understands how these things happen. All around us every moment of our lives is magical, if by that we mean life is constantly influenced and infused by the supernatural.

So it seems to me there’s nothing really speculative about this way of writing fiction. IF anything, in mentioning the supernatural I’m writing about the world as it actually is, because the more true-to-life a story really is, the more the “realism” in a story will seem “magical.”

Athol Dickson is a novelist, teacher, and independent publisher. His novels transcend description with a literary style that blends magical realism, suspense, and a strong sense of spirituality. Critics have favorably compared his work to such diverse authors as Octavia Butler (Publisher’s Weekly), Hermann Hesse (The New York Journal of Books) and Flannery O’Connor (The New York Times). One of his novels, River Rising, is an Audie Award winner, and three have won Christy Awards. His most recent novel, The Opposite Of Art, is a mystical story about pride, passion, and murder as a spiritual pursuit. Athol’s next release will be a “Christy award collection” of his four best selling novels, updated and with new forewords. Each of the novels was a Christy finalist. Athol lives with his wife in southern California. Please visit his website at www.AtholDickson.com, and like his Facebook fan page.

We can talk at length about how stories aren’t wrong. We can defend story choices with Scriptures about where sin really comes from (it’s not from the world, but from sinful hearts). We may point to a superhero movie or fantasy epic in which good and evil are clearly defined, true sacrifice lauded, and heroes fight to save their worlds.

See? we exclaim, gesturing to a page or screen. This is great stuff. Look at the Gospel echoes in this! That character reminds me of goodness. That hero reminds me of Jesus.

It’s very true. I’ve said that myself. It’s frequently said on Speculative Faith.

But … it could all come crashing down if someone raises his eyebrow and says:

If you want to be reminded of those things, why not simply read the Gospels again, or hear a sermon or read a nonfiction book about goodness or Jesus and what we should do for Him? Aren’t there more important things to do than reading and defending stories?

‘More important things’?

For me, the most recent occasion like this came during a friend’s online conversation-starter about Christians’ entertainment choices. Naturally I pitched in. Naturally I found myself in some deep discussion. One woman, very kindly and sincerely, asked this:

The fruit probably looked fine to Eve by her standards. Do you think, then, since our heart is deceitful above all things (Jer 17:9), that we should try so hard to legitimize our entertainment or are we to redeem the time, if nothing else, since entertainment activities can keep up from more important things?

Quite a fair question, and already a challenging one. I’ll try to make it even tougher:

Christians are saved for a mission. It’s summarized by Jesus’s Great Commission (Matt. 28: 16-20). He said to go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing and teaching them. We work to spread the Gospel, organize churches, support our families, and more. Given all of those clearly defined parts of our mission, why spend time reading or defending fiction?

In response, a story defender might say something like this.

Story defender: “There’s nothing wrong with it. Biblically, you can’t say that something is sinful if some Christians can enjoy it without sinning. I can read this and be reminded about the Gospel, goodness, and more.”

Story objector: “That doesn’t address the main point. What is right about wanting to spend all this time on fiction? If you want all these things, just cut out the ‘middle man.’ If you want to be reminded of the Gospel or goodness, read the Bible. Or do something more worthwhile, like sharing your faith or helping in your church.”

Or a defender might respond like this:

Story defender: “It’s harmless entertainment. Don’t be a legalist. Attitudes like this too often give Christians a bad name. Jesus died for our freedom. That’s what I practice.”

Story objector: “Your view misses the fact that Jesus died to set us free from sin and to make all our desires be like His. Would He be happy about you spending all this time reading or defending stories instead of fulfilling the Great Commission? Would He be happy with you dismissing concerns about ‘neutral’ entertainment as ‘legalistic’? Again, there are more important things Christians should be doing besides defending fiction.”

There. I’ve made the criticism as fair and formidable as I can. Now let’s try to answer it.

Rejecting negative reasons

Notice the similarity in both those story defenses: they’re based on what a story is not.

The first says a story is not worldly or a source of real temptation, so it must be okay.

The second says enjoying a story is not legalistic or repeating other Christians’ errors.

Either one, at best, raises stories to the level of “neutral.” There’s one problem. For the Christian, nothing is neutral. You do an action out of faith, or not out of faith. Even for something “neutral” like eating questionable meat, if you doubt it’s okay, it’s wrong:

But whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because the eating is not from faith. For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.

Romans 14:23

Those defenses of story are not based on a positive reason that “proceed[s] from faith.”

But if that’s true about fiction, it’s also true about everything. This afternoon I cleaned up the house. Did I do that “proceed[ing] from faith”? I loaded my dishwasher. Now I’m writing this column, which includes checking Scripture references. Am I doing this “proceed[ing] from faith”? Or not from faith?

Any challenge that we have “more important things” to do than explore what Scripture says about stories applies to all our actions. Taken to its logical conclusion, we could question any action. Why vacuum the carpets at church? Why have ambition at your workplace? Why pull weeds in the garden? Aren’t there more important things to do?

Actually, that’s one objection: that the story critic isn’t also questioning everything else.

But still, we need to discern and articulate a positive reason for why we read stories — Christian, speculative, and anything in between — and spend time defending them in our discussions and thoughts.

My suggested answer is partly hinted in the title of this series.

But I’m first curious about your answer. Consider the best objections to stories that you’ve heard, either simulated here or spoken in reality. How would you respond?