Should Sauron, the titular villain of The Lord of the Rings (yes, often I forget that the title itself references the dark lord!) have appeared in physical form at the films’ end?

That claim during discussion after last week’s column in this Lord of the Fantasies series surprised me. I had thought it was beyond debate that the dark lord Sauron, who had been “diminished” after the Gondorian warrior Isildur cut the Ring from his hand, could not take physical form — at least, not until the One Ring was back in his possession.

But evidently last week’s readers are not the only ones who think that is open for interpretation. Peter Jackson and the folks who adapted Tolkien’s epic fantasy into the Lord of the Rings films also thought so. They even filmed a physical Sauron appearance.

Some of you may know this already. During my last viewing of the film series’ behind-the-scenes DVD features, though, I was struck by the logic of including Sauron as a physical being, even an “angel of light” visage (known as Annatar). Yet I accepted the far better logic of instead keeping Sauron spiritual and subtle. In fact, the benefit of not making such a change is similar to that of not changing another character’s actions in The Two Towers film (after internet fans raised a ruckus over the potential alteration).

In both cases, story beholders are blessedly turned aside from insular definitions of heroes as people who are stronger and faster in battle, to oft-ignored kinds of heroes.

Example of Arwen Evenstar

Here, I think it’s best to let the filmmakers and actors speak for themselves. (This excerpted transcription, and the following, are from The Lord of the Rings Extended Edition DVDs’ appendices discs, for The Two Towers and The Return of the King.)

Discussing the processing of adapting The Two Towers book for the screen, director Peter Jackson mentions original plans to include Arwen, Aragorn’s Elven love interest, in the Helm’s Deep battle. That seemed necessary, Jackson said, because otherwise the film would struggle with a storyline of lovers separated by hundreds of miles. But …

Barrie Osborne (producer): “Certainly we got a lot of fan reaction to that. There was a rumor on the net that went out immediately that that was the direction the movie was going to go. And —” (Visibly swallows.) “There were a lot of objections to that thought.”

Liv Tyler (actress): “People don’t think that we ever look at this stuff.” (Laughing) “I once made the mistake of going and reading some of the stuff. And I cried so hard afterwards, because they were calling me ‘Liv Tyler, Xena Warrior.’”

[…]

Rick Porras (co-producer): “The way it was written, she actually was this incredibly gifted and courageous and ruthless fighter, like all Elves are capable of being. And as we were shooting Helm’s Deep, a decision was made: look, you know what, actually, this isn’t working; we need to change this.”

Viggo Mortenson (actor): “I think the filmmakers [were] trying to be creative and think of a way of including her more. But I think they found better ways to do that, by mining the appendices of The Lord of the Rings, of which Tolkien himself said the one concerning Arwen and Aragorn was the most important one to him.”

Philippa Boyens (co-writer): “Now that we’ve managed to come back to the book, what we discovered is that the love story could be more unconventional. That you could in fact tell the story as written, with these two main characters being apart from each other, because they were always together.”

Tyler: “So it wasn’t until the second half of shooting when we really started to change everything, and when we came back to who Arwen truly is, that I really just — I mean, I was so into it, and so liberated and happy. I was skipping around the set. At that point, I just went right back into the book and into the appendix. What we came to realize was that you don’t have to put a sword in her hands to make her strong. Where we’ve come to now is all these true elements of who Arwen is. I mean, this is an incredibly powerful and fearless woman, filled with so much hope and belief. And that is strong enough.”

What a thought. Not all strong female characters must fight, or prove they’re equal to male characters in every talent. Instead, strength and valor can be shown by waiting for a warrior’s return, believing in his victory, even being a servant to support him.

Would that other storytellers, non-Christian and Christian, who are drawn into extreme un-Biblical views of women’s role or abilities, understand this about female characters:

“You don’t have to put a sword in her hands to make her strong.”

Example of Aragorn Elessar

The same proves true for the film’s version of Aragorn, who almost was shown in a somewhat familiar Epic Duel, Luke-and-Darth-Vader-style, at the end of The Return of the King. That’s according to the same crew, who later discovered a much better way.

Sauron as Annatar, an angel of light, for what could have been “The Return of the King” ‘s climax.

Jackson: “Sauron’s always proven difficult in these films, especially to me. I mean, I’ve always had problems — with my sort of movie-making hat on. I mean, it works fine in the book; no problem with the book. But your villain is basically a giant eyeball. […] We also felt that Aragorn has come this distance with his journey, and that Sauron is his enemy, and that we had to somehow have this personal duel between Aragorn and Sauron. That’s not in the book. But we felt that it had to be in the movie.”

[… Later, they show the actual original script.]

CLOSE ON: SAURON the FAIR looks into ARAGORN’S eyes as if STARING into his very SOUL …

SAURON

What did they bring, the Kings of Old?
From over the sundered seas?
Seven Stars, and seven stones
And one white tree…

Hail Aragorn, son of Kings.

[…]

Jackson: “It was not what Tolkien imagined. And we realized it was actually totally demeaning to what Aragorn was doing. The story was so clear as to what was happening, that this was all about Frodo and Sam. Aragorn realizes, if they’re still alive, then he has to do what he can to help Frodo and Sam. So Aragorn’s heroism is not a one-on-one duel with the big villain. His heroism is his attempt to put his own life and the life of his troops on the line, in the vague hope and dream that it somehow may give Frodo and Sam that little opportunity to help them complete their mission.”

[…] “We’ve sort of got the best of both worlds, because we had that moment where he’s drawn away, and just when you think that [Aragorn is] somehow being affected by this force, he turns and he says —”

[Clip of Mortenson as Aragorn, in a greenscreen-surrounded set.]

Mortenson: “For Frodo.” [With a battle cry, he charges away.]

Yet another groundbreaking concept: turning aside from yet another scene of muscular bodies and huge weapons hurling against each other, to show not only inner conflict and defeat of evil with good, but a clear and stunning portrayal of self-sacrifice.

Would that other storytellers, non-Christian and Christian, who are drawn into extreme un-Biblical views of men’s roles or abilities, understand this about male characters:

“Aragorn’s heroism is not a one-on-one duel with the big villain. His heroism is his attempt to put his own life and the life of his troops on the line.”

The appendices

Whatever our thoughts of the films and what they got wrong, we have to give them this: after considering these two possible changes, they saw the light. They both understood why the book and its story was better, and turned from the seduction of making female strength about Girl-Warrior Power, and battles of good and evil mainly about masculine combat. In this, they honored Tolkien and showed respect to his books. And, for those with eyes to see, the films showed Biblical, servant-leader heroisms to the world.

Still, you might still believe Arwen could have been different, or Sauron more physical, while also preserving these themes. If so, how so? What other diverse kinds of heroism did the Lord of the Rings books reflect? How did the films show these, or change them?

One of Speculative Faith’s seeming best-kept secrets is beginning to be revealed — perhaps more, after this fill-in column. I refer not only to the Speculative Faith Library, but to the Library’s recently upgraded Submit a Novel feature.

Every week, we add more titles to the Library, which now includes 300 books from diverse authors and publishers, all united by their Christian-speculative themes. Yet the Submit a Novel form, I believe, is one of our best tools to get news about novels you may know about, but no one else does, and to spread the word to other readers.

This allows any reader, with access to the book’s description, information, and cover — and, we hope, the willingness to write his or her own book review — to add a novel we don’t yet have at the Library. Maybe it’s by a favorite author. Maybe it’s by yourself.

Our goal: to have every Christian speculative title, ever written, on our cyber-shelves.

Unlike the offerings of other sites, this mission does not include trying to sell the books. Nor do we group Christian-speculative titles with speculative titles that aren’t Christian, or Christian titles that aren’t speculative, or titles that aren’t either.

Rather, we emphasize content and reviews: how the book “sells” itself, on its front and back covers, and (optimally!) how you as a reader reacted to the book when you read it.

This can include traditionally published books, and (following the conversation that Fred referenced here) self-published books. Sure, bad stuff exists among self-published books, but — I speak for myself — there is certainly also bad stuff among traditionally published books. The Library does have standards, such as our requirement of finished, published, Christian and speculative books. But readers’ reviews, not our “vetting,” will choose whether a good book rises or a not-so-good book is revealed as such.

Book work

Still, in my view, the Library could use some changes. (As a web-slinger, I always believe a website could use some changes.) But maybe you could verify, or clarify, these ideas:

• At present the site’s search box taps into both the Blog’s and the Library’s content. Should these be separated, or should they remain together?
• I believe a Library book listing should fetch any column or article written by the same author elsewhere on the site. The same would be true for a Blog page: if the column’s author has also written books listed in the Library, those would be fetched automatically to display on the blog page. What that help readers?
• Previously, the Library allowed users to sort the listed books by several orders: publication (the default), alphabetically, order of title addition, or author name. I’ve been looking into ways to restore that function. But would it be helpful?
• Should the Library’s front-page listings show whole book descriptions, as now, or a summary, to allow more books displayed on one page?
• Would installing an instant-ranking system help a book’s listing, or detract from it? I had considered a system with three five-star categories: 1) Plot. What does the novel say about God, and how well does it say it? 2) Characters. How do the novel’s heroes and villains reflect human nature, and how well? 3) World. Does the story setting reflect truths and beauties about our world, with good writing?
• If you’re an email subscriber to Speculative Faith, would you want to be notified every time a book title or review is added to the Library?
• Might you — yes, you yourself, if available and motivated — consider helping with Library additions and especially collecting and writing reviews? This could involve excerpting reviews from other sites, and/or writing reviews yourself.
• Future thoughts will reveal our review philosophy. In short, we aim to imitate the nature of Christ Himself, “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). To love like Him, we’d keep interaction and even criticism not only constructive, but born of His grace. For a book review, this would include ensuring to note what an author (in our view) did well. But love would also include pointing out, humbly yet with truth, either what didn’t work, subjectively, or what couldn’t work, objectively.

Reviewing thoughts

I’m still struggling with this, by the way. My temptation is to be snarky, and to this day I’m not sure I avoided that even while faulting some books that, in my view, were objectively poor (example: this series). Thus, I still hope to find a balance in reviewing books to which I had, at best, mixed reactions — to be gracious, yet truthful.

One example: author/pastor Kevin DeYoung’s recent interactions with Jeff Bethke, a.k.a. The Guy Who Made the “Jesus Hates Religion” Video. This began on the internet, and later went real — as the two men found brotherly love in each other, yet (on DeYoung’s part) reasons for concern. Yet DeYoung’s motives seemed this: don’t say anything in writing against someone’s work that you would not be willing to say to him in reality.

That may clarify a book reviewer’s motive, and simplify how he works it out, more than I would have thought. It may also help inform future SF Library review policy.

What are your thoughts, on the Library’s Submit a Novel feature, likely Library changes, and how to write fair and balanced gracious-and-truthful book reviews?

If you’re an author, what are the best kinds of reviews, even negative ones?

If you’re a reader, how have you reviewed novels?

Some of you are probably familiar with the concept of beer goggles. After a couple or three beers, the idea goes, your environment begins to appear subtly (or not-so-subtly) different. The world takes on a rosy glow, and everything looks more appealing. If you’re a guy, the girls look prettier. If you’re a girl, the guys look handsomer. Reality hasn’t changed, of course, but your perceptions have. You may be in for a rude surprise when the goggles come off.

World of Warcraft has played around with this idea. During holidays, the developers often seed the game with unique little character accessories, including a literal set of beer goggles. They’re usually handed out by a girl gnome. “Guaranteed to make anyone look attractive!” When your character puts them on, everybody else in the game looks like a guy gnome. Everybody.

You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Hang with me for a moment.

Something often overlooked as we eviscerate or lionize books and their authors is that literature, like any other art form, is inherently interactive. For every author, there is an audience. For every book, there is a reader. For every high, there is a low, for every to, there is a fro…

Where was I? Oh, right…simply put, whatever emerges from a story is at least half the fault of the reader. Every story is perceived and interpreted through the lens of the reader’s life experience–their own personal “beer goggles,” if you will. This affects both the story’s reception (“I loved it!” “I hated it!” “I was overwhelmed by its mediocrity!”) and the lessons we glean from it (“It changed my life!” “No! It’s a guidebook for how not to live!” “Excuse me, I need to stockpile groceries for the Zombie Apocalypse right now!”).

I’m not saying the truth, or un-truth, of any given story is subjective, or relative to the observer. As a Christian, I believe there is objective truth, truth that exists whether or not I or anybody else agrees with it, and that truth is ultimately found in the person of Jesus Christ. God created the universe via that living Word, and His truth permeates creation, even a creation marred by sin. The truth, as Fox Mulder used to say, is Out There. There’s no escaping it. But how much of it are we seeing? To what degree is God’s truth, expressed in creation, and specifically, the truth embedded in human works of art, such as literature, perceptible to us once it passes through our beer goggles?

It can be frustrating for a writer when a reader seems to misinterpret his or her work. Where did they get that idea? That’s nothing like what I was trying to say in my book. Is the idea still true, even if I didn’t intend to weave it into my plot? Somebody saw it there, plain as day. Impossible. It must be the beer goggles talking.

Sometimes you want to just roll with it and put your own goggles into play. Oh, yes indeedy…I designed the entire book to showcase this single, awesome idea. I’m a genius! Meanwhile, not one word of the story has changed. Where’s the truth?

We’re usually unaware of the fact we’re wearing beer goggles because they’re so much a part of us they feel natural. They don’t come off easily, either. One of the most dangerous things about them is our sense that we can just set them aside whenever we wish and see the world in perfect clarity, if we put our mind to it:

“I have exchactly two faulty ashumptions, offishur. They have no effex…affex…impact on my interpolashun of thish passhage of Scrissur…Scripchur…this Bible versh here.”

“Right. Tell it to the judge, buddy.”

Paradoxically, the beer goggles can allow us to see truth we might otherwise miss. That awkward, inconvenient truth, that “girl who looks prettier at closing time,” so to speak, might turn out to be our soul mate, if we’ll just give her a chance. One of the wonderful things about God is that he meets us where we are. He knows the goggles are glued on tight, but does that stop Him? Of course not. He uses our baggage and circumstances as conduits for communicating His truth.

Am I an Oxford professor with a taste for Norse mythology? Am I a computer programmer who reads science fiction stories over lunch and has a DVR at home loaded with Doctor Who episodes? Am I a teenager with a closet full of comic books? No problem. God can work with that. He helps us recognize important things that draw our attention to Him. Having embraced a truth within a context that’s familiar and comfortable, we’re better able to recognize and accept it in unvarnished form when He plunks it down on the table in front of us. “Hey, that’s just like what happened in (insert favorite book/movie/classic myth here), only better! And it’s real!”

This is one reason I’m hesitant to flame on any work of fiction as intrinsically “anti-Christian.” If God can use the myth of Hercules to prepare Greek culture for the story of Jesus, or the myth of Balder to prepare C.S. Lewis in similar fashion, He can surely use resources from our modern popular culture to speak to our hearts. Jered Moore and A.T. Ross wrestled with this issue in recent articles here, and the discussion continues at length in the comments. It’s good reading.

And the beer goggles? Remember you’re wearing them, know your limits, and stay close to your Designated Driver.

As early as 2000 John Granger, author of several books about Harry Potter, floated the idea that the creator of the series, J. K. Rowling, was at least an Inklings wanna-be. In part he debunks the idea that Rowling’s rise to fame is a Cinderella story — the welfare single mom making good against all odds. Instead, because of her background in the Classics and her ability to draw on ancient and medieval philosophy, her work is to be taken seriously and studied with as much vigor as that of the Inklings before her.

The idea became one of debate apparently. A member of The Chamber of Secrets forum brought up the issue, first defining the Inklings in this way:

This is an explanation of what an Inkling writer was:

Neither antihistorical, nor ahistorical, the Inklings’ view of myth is that it evokes awe, wonder, passion, and, what is more, pursuit—a culture’s myth is the story that has the power to explain the origin and destiny of a people, the text that orients them in history, guides them in the present, and points them to a future in which they and their offspring will live and move and have their being. Hence the Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Narnia. Myth places them in the presence of their creator and benefactor, judge and advocate, and answers the questions when, how, who, and why. A “true myth” has the power to explain where we came from, shape our identity and purpose, instill hope, promote justice,sustain order. That is why Lewis can describe the Christian gospel in these terms: “as myth transcends thought, Incarnation transcends myth. The heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. . . . Christians also need to be reminded . . . that what became Fact was a Myth,that it carries with it into the world of Fact all the properties of a myth.”

So an Inkling writer wrote about Christian themes using ideas and characters that represented those Christian beliefs.

The member then posed the question: Are the Harry Potter books really about Christianity?

While much of the discussion centered on Rowlings’ similarities/influence from C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, Jason Fisher, editor of Tolkien and the Study of His Sources, broadened the conversation to include Charles Williams. Pointing to one specific likeness, he said

Of course, independent invention is entirely possible. I have never heard that Rowling was a fan of Williams (though she has admitted a liking for Tolkien and especially Lewis). But the resemblance is striking, isn’t it? It could just be possible that Rowling has read Williams and picked up this clever little motif from him. It is remarkably specific, and I can’t recall anything like it anywhere else in my reading history.

Before the final Harry Potter book came out, one blogger framed the question about Rowling this way:

The ultimate question does seem to be whether Potter will live or die and, if in dying, Rowling is taking her sub-creation (hello J.R.R. Tolkien) closer to the kind of truly tragic ending that is going to push millions of readers — secular and religious — to wrestle with big, even eternal, issues. Is she, in effect, a kind of postmodern, progressive Inkling?

The discussion continued years later in a Google group

Is there a common denominator for the Inklings in which tradition
Rowling follows? …

Is it correct that Rowling is ‘following in the tradition Inklings’?
And if so, in what way(s) is this correct?

The fact is, no one can be a part of a group after the group has been disbanded and all its members dead. The Inklings collaborated with one another, critiqued, encouraged, and challenged each other — none of which someone writing years later could enjoy.

But did Rowling write in the Inklings’ tradition? David Kopel, in his review of Granger’s book, said

The Inklings were originally a group of Oxford dons who wrote Christian fiction. The most famous of them are J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Lord of the Rings and the Narnia series never mention Christianity overtly, and in Tolkien’s books, religion itself is absent from the plot. Yet these mythopoeic books aim to “baptize the imagination” of the reader — to teach her the importance of fighting for the right, no matter how powerful the forces of evil may appear.

Using that definition, I’m not sure I see a great difference from what we think as traditional fantasy. So what do you think? Where does Rowling belong in connection to the Inklings?

Last week re-confirmed a truth set on foundations of stone: that while most Christian fantasy fans love The Lord of the Rings books, the films may meet with mixed reactions.

Example A: my captivation by the film and music, contrasted with author R.J. Anderson:

The look of the movie was breathtaking, but I found myself numb and indifferent to all the ACTION ACTION ACTION BATTLE BATTLE BATTLE INSERT VERY UN-TOLKIENESQUE SCENE OR JOKE HERE MORE ACTION STOP that seemed to be going on. Where were the quiet, thoughtful moments that defined the characters so well? Who was this Aragorn who didn’t even seem to know who he truly was, or want to be king?

Aragorn’s and Arwen’s character changes are among the most interesting developments of the film adaptation, I believe. Yet I think I’ll save those for next week. Instead, this issue underlies that one — the issue of perhaps the most extensive character changes made for the Lord of the Rings films. I speak of Faramir, or to use my wife’s reaction, He Who Must Not Be Named … named Faramir, that is.

Faramir gets carded

When we were courtship-dating, in December 2007, I sent my girlfriend an e-card I’d made. The occasion was her work in a “Nutcracker” performance. The background was our first real dispute, as a couple-in-development, and not only about Lord of the Rings.

The first page showed this:

As you prepare for your performance …

Find tonight these greetings and good wishes from someone you know in a faraway land.

He is an overall-good man, flawed in some ways, depending on his presentation mostly … often misunderstood, though, yet fully capable in things such as what few real-world combats do occur, and certainly worth a little re-evaluation.

Of course I am referring to …

And inside — well, here’s the animated equivalent of that part:

In The Two Towers book, Faramir, a Man of Gondor — son of Lord Denethor, the land’s steward, and brother to Boromir, a Fellowship member — finds the two Hobbits, Frodo and Sam, lost in the wilderness. As a soldier tasked with protecting his land, Faramir takes them back to his hideout and quizzes them about their intent. When finally the truth emerges about Frodo’s errand to destroy the evil One Ring, the Hobbits — and readers — are relieved to learn of Faramir’s nobility.

‘But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.’

Then Faramir and his men escort the Hobbits to the Cross-roads, where the halflings resume their quest to Mordor. “Go with the good will of all good men!” Faramir says.

The film version is only slightly different. Faramir (or Filmamir, if you prefer) captures Frodo and Sam, brings them to his hidden hideout, and questions them as in the book. But then, when Faramir learns what Frodo carries, he’s filled with Ring-lust similar to that which had taken Boromir. Partly out of desperation to “show his quality” to his critical father, Faramir instead escorts the Hobbits to the besieged city of Osgiliath.

Only minor changes, you see, but still meant to honor the spirit of Tolkien, and the original character as portrayed in the book, or. … Or, just maybe, you disagree.

Two different journeys

In the behind-the-scenes footage for The Two Towers’ extended edition, film co-writer Philippa Boyens explained the screenwriters’ motives for their change. With all that we have done to show how evil the Ring is, she argued, how could we have any character come along and say, breezily, that he wouldn’t even pick it up from the side of a road?

What she describes seems another path, from another crossroads, leading to a different exploration of real human nature in a fantastic story. And Christians can know both are equally true, equally Biblical — and equally dangerous, if we ignore the other side.

This is what we read about in texts like Jer. 17:9 (“The heart is deceitful …”) or Rom. 3: 10-11 (“None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God”). By themselves, human hearts are ugly and dead. Before God, we have nothing good to offer in this world. And in created worlds, it’s realistic, and God-glorifying, to show the same.

The other path reminds us to show that God’s glory and goodness, are also revealed even in evil people (Matt. 7: 9-11), and even more so in His saints (2 Cor. 7:1). In reality, people can do good things, thanks to God, and this also should show in our stories.

This may explain why people don’t want only angsty dark brooding heroes with secrets, closet skeletons, and mood lighting. Witness the irritations, and parodies, that result when rumors emerge about a superhero or another character getting a “gritty reboot.” People don’t want only “gritty” heroes who have conflicted, just-barely-good character. They also want to be reminded that heroes can act redemptively, nobly, even now.

We want both bright colors and simple nobility, such as Superman.

We also want dark tones and conflicted motives, such as Batman.

That’s why I am mostly all right with the change in Faramir’s character. But I know I’m in the minority, solely because I did not grow up knowing Faramir from the books; I was never attached to him. Would I miss the presence of his nobility, and (we also learn) longing for Gondor’s true king? Perhaps. Yet in the films, we do get some of that from other characters. Those virtues are not entirely missing.

Still, I can also understand people, like a certain lady of mine, who think the film, even with some changes, could have done better. You may have similar criticisms, or maybe even specific suggestions for improving movie-Faramir. Or Filmamir. Or Faramir …

Like I said two week ago, I’m not one to back down from a bad idea. And I have a feeling that this might be a bad idea. We’ll see. Of course, that’s only if this post makes it past the scheduled SOPA blackout of WordPress, but there we go.

We’ve been talking about aliens and how they fit into a Christian worldview. There aren’t many fictional books that explore this idea (at least, not many that I’ve found). C. S. Lewis certainly tackled the idea of aliens and God. But there is one series that came out of the ABA that dealt with it, one that I was clued into by fellow speculative fiction author Sharon Hinck a number of years ago. It’s a two book series by Mary Doria Russell, namely The Sparrow and Children of God.

Let me tell you a little about it: in The Sparrow, humanity makes a remarkable discovery. They hear beautiful music coming from a distant star. While the rest of the world dithers about what to do, the Jesuits realize that they are obligated to bring the Gospel to the people who produced it. This mission is brought about almost single-handedly by Father Emilio Sandoz. By the end of the first book, he’s the only survivor of the journey and he comes back to Earth as a broken man.

Don’t worry about spoilers. That’s in the first chapter of the book.

The first book unravels what happened to Sandoz and his people. The second book deals with Sandoz’s healing from his traumatic experience. I covered some of this at my blog when I first read both books.

Here’s the thing: these aren’t CBA books. Not by a long shot. And it’s not just due to the content (both have some shocking stuff in it). It’s also because these “Jesuits” sound more like rabbis than Christians. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; Russell isn’t a Christian.

At any rate, these books are still instructive to us when it comes to Christianity and how possible aliens would fit into our cosmology and Christology. And now I’m going to have to introduce you all to a friend of mine, someone who had to follow me here from my blog:

The mission in Russell’s books go off the rails primarily because they make a classic mistake. When the Jesuits arrive on Rakhat, the alien world, they dive in with both feet without ever really understanding the people or culture they’re seeing. And they all pay a heavy price for their oversight (one might even call it arrogance).

It’s a worrisome lesson for us. Far too often, when we approach those who are alien to God, we assume we know where they are and how God can work with them. It behooves us to make sure we know where they are before we share the Gospel with them, whether it’s human “aliens” or the real kind. That way we won’t stumble into any situation where they or we can get hurt.

At least, that’s the way I see it.

So what’s next? Maybe I’ll share some advice that I’ve gleaned from writing about aliens “back in the day.” Maybe not. We’ll see.

A mostly-fictional illustration of how reader feedback can be less than useful, and how we often get from a book mostly what we bring to it.

Overheard between 3 and 4 p.m. at the Noble Barn Book-a-Palooza:

“It’s so romantic. I want a boyfriend just like Shane.”

“Shane was an insensitive jerk. I hated him. Louie knew what it took to win a girl’s heart.”

“Team Shane!”

“Team Louie!”

“Here you go, ladies. Enjoy.”

“The women in the story are all weak-willed stereotypes. I’d thought we were beyond that sort of blatant sexism. It seems I was mistaken.”

“Thank you for writing with so much understanding and respect for women.”

“It scared the living daylights out of me. I’m still checking under my bed for…you know…”

“It reads like a kids’ book.”

“I can’t keep this in my house. I have children.”

“This is a truly inspiring story. Everyone should read it.”

“You call yourself a Christian? That’s rich. I think you’re trying to fool people into buying this book. Everybody knows Christians will buy anything with a Christian label.”

“That’s not been my experience, ma’am, but it would certainly help.”

“I couldn’t stop reading…it moved so fast I could barely catch my breath. ”

“Drowsy by page 3, snoring by page 7. Your book is the cure for insomnia.”

“It was disgusting. I had to throw it in the garbage bin and put a couple bags of trash on top of it for good measure.”

“So, so, so, so sad. I cried for hours.”

“I’ve been depressed for three months. This book showed me how to smile again.”

“It changed my life. I mean it. 180-degree-about-face never-gonna-be-the-same-again changed.”

“Can you sign this ‘To My Friend Victoria?’”

“But…we only met a couple of minutes ago.”

“No problem! I just friended you on Facebook.”

“Unlike, unlike, unlike. -1, -1, -1. With a bullet. Three bullets.”

“Can I get this on e-book? Paper books kill trees.”

“I’d buy one, but I already have 200 e-books I haven’t read yet.”

“I counted 2 profanities, 1 obscenity, 7 rude expressions, 3 references to bodily functions, 15 euphemisms for profanities or obscenities, and an implied adulterous relationship. I hope you’re proud of yourself, you pornographer.”

“Your characters are two-dimensional.”

“You should have spent more time on world-building and less on character development. Bla-bla-bla.”

“There’s too much religion in the story.”

“You didn’t mention Jesus once.”

“Are you famous? I never heard of you.”

“Masterful.”

“Inept.”

“Obsessively detailed.”

“Vague.”

“Jaded and worldly.”

“Naive. A Pollyanna tale.”

“All man-made books are evil. I don’t need to tell you what that means for the destiny of your immortal soul.”

“Is this some kind of racket? You’re selling it for half this price on Amazon.”

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

“The allegory is way obvious. Next time, just rip pages out of the Bible and write over the names with Sharpie, why don’tcha?”

“I don’t understand the allegory. Is Shane Jesus, or is he John the Baptist? And Louie…well, he makes no sense at all.”

“A bold political statement, my boy. Watch your back.”

“Where are the real-world problems? This is 300 pages of irrelevant fluff.”

“Dude, your story’s so gritty and intense. I can tell you spent some time on the mean streets.”

“You’ve never set foot outside your little pink house in the suburbs, have you?”

“So, what’s this book about, anyway?”

“It’s about a boy named Shane, and his dog, Louie. They take a backpacking trip along the Appalachian Trail.”

“Sounds boring. Is it about you?”

“No. There are some beautiful pictures, though.”

“Pictures? Cool. Hey, nice dog. Is he a German Shepherd?”

“Golden Retriever.”

“I love dogs. I’ll take a copy.”

“How do you want me to sign it?”

“Just say, ‘To Charlie’”

“That’s your name?”

“Nope, it’s my dog’s name. He loves books. They keep him from chewing on the furniture.”

 

Writers groups, literary societies, book clubs — they’ve been around for a long time. Saturday I met with my writing group — five of us living in the SoCal area and interested in speculative fiction, each of us Christian. We meet about once a month for a variety of purposes. Sometimes we brainstorm with a member starting a new project. Sometimes we confab about blog buzz or commiserate with an author about the latest rejection notice or the newest list of edits. Sometimes we celebrate successes and pass along experiences. And there is always some measure of critique work — those who brought something read it aloud and the rest give feedback.

So are we an incarnation of The Inklings?

As wonderful as my writing group is and as grateful as I am for the friendship and help these writers give me, the truth is we aren’t anything like The Inklings, except for the ways in which we are. 😉

First, The Inklings began as an informal writing group. They developed in part from an Oxford club founded by Edward Tangyre Lean, an undergraduate who established the group primarily for critique of unpublished works. To gain credibility, perhaps, he decided to include some faculty and invited both C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien to join. His club, which he named the Inklings, lasted for several terms, but when he graduated in 1933, the group folded.

The name Inklings, now available, was transferred to a group meeting in Lewis’s rooms at Magdalen College. In fact various members of the now famous group had been meeting informally years prior to the adoption of the name.

There appear to be several critical dates in the establishment of The Inklings. In December 1929 Tolkien first gave Lewis something from his own creation to critique. Nearly two years later, in September 1931 Lewis embraced faith in Christ — an important part of the foundation of The Inklings, because only two things were required for consideration of members: that they write and that they were Christians. The third key date was 1932 when C. S. Lewis’s brother Warren retired from military service and moved to Oxford. From that point he joined the meetings.

Typically the critique sessions were held every Thursday night in Lewis’s rooms. Those attending would arrive some time after dinner, and the evening was given to reading a work and giving praise for it and/or suggestions to make it better.

The group soon began to grow.

Scholars now identify nineteen men as part of The Inklings, though most Thursday meetings only saw six or seven members gather. The four who attended most faithfully were the two Lewis brothers, Tolkien, and Robert E. Havard. Others on the list are Owen Barfield, J. A. W. Bennett, David Cecil, Nevill Coghill, James Dundas-Grant, H. V. D. Dyson, Adam Fox, Colin Hardie, Gervase Mathew, R. B. McCallum, C. E. Stevens, Christopher Tolkien (J. R. R.’s son), John Wain, Charles Williams, and C. L. Wrenn.

Was mystery writer Dorothy Sayers a part of The Inklings? Apparently not, though she was friends with a number of The Inklings — C. S. Lewis and Charles Williams in particular. She was also a member of a separate group, the Socratic Club which included a number of The Inklings but which served a very different purpose: to provide a forum for Christians and atheists to discuss their divergent beliefs.

The Thursday critique sessions were not the only meetings of The Inklings. An even more informal gathering took place every Tuesday morning at the pub The Eagle and Child, also referred to as the Bird and Baby. Unlike the evening meetings, these get-togethers were open to the public and less serious. They were given to talk among friends, discussion of theology, and of course conversation about literature.

The key to The Inklings was the double linchpins of their love of words and their love of Christ. But one other thing can’t be ignored. These men of letters lived in Oxford, a place that fostered academic pursuits. In other words, it was no accident that so many men interested in similar subjects were in the same location at the same time. Of course, in light of God’s sovereignty, we know it was no accident at all.

Because of the like-mindedness of these various men, it is no surprise to learn that The Inklings interacted with one another apart from their two weekly meetings.

Diana Pavlac Glyer author of The Company They Keep

They saw one another in many other venues: for lunch, dinner, or beer; on walking tours through the English countryside; for feasts and special events, such as occasional ham suppers and the special weekend celebration to toast the end of the war [World War II]. Although the Thursday group was fairly stable and predictable, a network of friendships preceded these Thursday meetings and continued long after the regular meetings ended. (The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community by Diana Pavlac Glyer, p. 18).

In other words, The Inklings became a community more than a group or even a club. While the regular sessions lasted some seventeen years, a number of the friendships developed within that setting were apparently life long.

Can any group today ever replicate what The Inklings became? What are your thoughts? What advantages do you think they had? What advantages do we have today that they missed out on?

Where does inspiration come from?

The quick and purest answer is God — the Master and Creator of the whole world, the universe for that matter. We know from the very beginning of the Bible that God created a wonderful place for His beloved creation to live within. He thought of everything and as John Hammond in the movie Jurassic Park said of his genetically engineered animal park, “I spared no expenses.” Neither did God.

He created man in His own image, and gave us control over all creatures on land, in the sea, or in the sky. He handcrafted a world with soaring mountains, seemingly bottomless sea trenches, puffy white clouds, rolling liquid rock (lava), animals that run, birds that fly, fish that swim, water as ice, fog, or rain. He gave us emotions so we could feel. God crafted a beating heart that would work within our body to provide life blood to our systems, each of which was also handcrafted — from kidneys that clean, a stomach to digest, a tongue to taste, ears to hear, and eyes to see, to a brain to take it all in and make it all work together.

All the above to say, we are His creation, His greatest creation, and He made us in His image. By doing so He made us gifted to be creative like He was. Not only did He make us creative, but He surrounded us with things to inspire our creativity.

What inspiration do you draw from?

I’ve been blessed to live in Colorado where mountains abound and our weather varies hourly. In the winter we get snow in the morning and have it melt by the afternoon with wonderful warm sunshine. We have sunny mornings, and rainstorms passing over in the afternoon to cool us off in the summer. The mountains are just a fifteen minute drive away, and I can be lost in pine forests and soaring peaks after pulling off the asphalt and walking a short ways into the wilderness. Animals abound, and while I hope to see a bear someday (at a distance of course), I’ve seen elk, antelopes, fox, eagles, owls, mountain goats, deer, and a lot of other wildlife. God surrounds us with beauty, and it’s easy to draw inspiration from something so majestically created. Some might say, “Well that’s Colorado! I live in ___(Fill in the blank)___.”

Well, I grew up in Illinois, where my writing all started. Illinois — flat cornfields, muggy summers, frigid winters — but God laid His beautiful handiwork there as well. There are nothing like the spring rains that drizzle for hours against your window and the ominous thunder and lightning that accompany each storm. The summer, while humid, brought along the warmth to swim in wooded lakes and to roast marshmallows over campfires at night. The autumn harvest and the orange, red, and yellow leaves that cloaked the trees made fall my favorite time of year. Seeing the bright orange pumpkins lying in waiting amongst the black earthy fields or running through huge corn mazes with friends were all parts of the season. And although the winters were cold, cold, oh so cold, those first snows were wonderful and glistening as we walked at night with large fluffy snowflakes flittering down.

Those are some of the scenes and memories that float through my mind as I write, but inspiration comes from more than just the nature around us. God has gifted others with a talent I do not possess. Music! I like to listen to soundtracks while I write. Some of my favorites are from movies like, The Village, How to Train Your Dragon, Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Patriot, Jurassic Park, and Last of the Mohicans. While I’m in no way musically inclined, I did win a blue ribbon for a church talent competition singing a duet of “Awesome God.” (Okay, I admit, as I recall everyone won blue ribbons.) The talent to create imagery and invoke emotion through sound is clearly a gift from God. These composers create the music that sets the mood for my writing while not distracting me with lyrics.

Often I’ll be pecking away on my keyboard and find myself flying down a path I’d not expected my characters to take, then I reflect on what tracks I’ve just listened to, and lo and behold, the tempo or theme of the scene matches the music. Sometimes it’s comedic or dark, fast paced, or a relaxing conversation. But it seems the stories always fit together well, and for that I must thank God.

So again, where do you draw your inspiration from? Ultimately you’re drawing it from God, but what medium has He used to get it to you? The whole Earth is His canvas. It’s wonderful to serve such an awesome and inspiring God. He so often is there when we don’t take the time to notice.

– – – – – –
Brock D. Eastman is 28 years old and lives at the base of America’s Mountain with his wife and two daughters. He has the pleasure of working for Focus on the Family and on the Adventures in Odyssey brand. He loves movie nights with his wife and their homemade popcorn, as well as playing pretend or reading with his daughters.

Brock started writing his first series, The Quest for Truth, in 2005 and 5 years later with his wife’s encouragement signed a publishing deal. Two months later he signed to write the Sages of Darkness trilogy, and a month after that to write one of the new Imagination Station series books about David and Goliath. He’s always thinking of his next story and totes a thumb-drive full of ideas.

To keep track of what Brock is working on visit his web site. Connect with him on Twitter, Facebook, Blogger, and YouTube.

His titles include
The Quest for Truth: (P&R Publishing/Focus on the Family) Taken (2011), Risk (2012), Unleash (2012), Tangle (2013), Hope (2013)
The Imagination Station (Adventures in Odyssey): (Tyndale/Focus on the Family) Showdown with the Shepherd (2011)
Sages of Darkness: (Destiny Image) HowlSage (2011), BlizzardSage (2012), CrimsonSage (2013)