Seeds: A Christian Fantasy
By Rachel Starr Thomson

The Chronicles of Kepos Gé Book 1

INTRODUCTION – Seeds: A Christian Fantasy

SEEDS is page-turning Christian fantasy by acclaimed author Rachel Starr Thomson — a novel about a wild frontier, monsters in the shadows, and a world trying to hold onto a fragile peace even as dark forces conspire against them.

In the fantasy world of Kepos Gé, a young woman flees her past by joining a frontier settlement on the edge of the wilderness. But she can’t escape the threats abroad in this new world—or the wild things growing in her own heart.

Something is deeply wrong in Jerusalem Valley, where the persecuted religious faction called Tremblers are trying to create a new society. As Linette Cole struggles toward acceptance and newfound faith, friends turn to enemies and enemies become friends.

Soon Linette will face the greatest challenge of her life:

Because words have been spoken.

And words grow.

SEEDS BY RACHEL STARR THOMSON — EXCERPT

Prologue

Kepos Ge – The Garden World

In the year 1516, an alliance of nations called the Kaion Anthropon—born out of the remnants of an ancient empire 1500 years earlier—was torn apart by a series of wars. In the beginning, it was religious unity that created the Kaion—unity made in the worship of Father, Son, and Fire Within. Now, religious strife tore it apart. The conflict was called the Wars for Truth, as the Kaion split into factions, each claiming to hold exclusive truth and hope, not just for the Kaion, but for all mankind.

Of these factions, two became primary: the Sacramenti, keepers of the old ways, and the Puritani or Pure People who claimed the old ways had become corrupt and that they were the new guardians of truth and freedom.

The Wars were bloody and seeming endless, raging for over a hundred years. As they split the Kaion into smaller and smaller entities, kings and nations sided with one faction or the other. In time, power shifted decisively to the Puritani, and the Sacramenti were largely driven underground. At last the Kepos Gé settled into an uneasy truce.

But even then, the splitting—and the attempts to find truth—did not end. From the Sacramenti was born an order called the Imitators, priests who sought to purify the Sacramenti from within and bring a renewal of their beliefs . . . and of their influence. From the Puritani, a smaller group split away, objecting to the new Puritani alliances with political powers and seeking a more intimate and personal connection to Truth. These were called Luminari, but their strange practices soon had them nicknamed “Tremblers.”

I the year 1639, King Aldous II of Angleland, an island nation belonging to the Puritani, granted to a trouble-making Trembler within his courts land in the New World across the sea. His name was Herman Melrose. Dreaming of a world in which peace might reign and tolerance lead every faction into unity and love through the influence of the Fire Within, Melrose crossed the ocean in a ship, meeting with the Colonies on the shores of the New World before beginning his river voyage inland—bound for the wooded mountains and valleys that now belonged to him.

Herman Melrose carried the challenge of forging a truly new order within the New World. With him was a small group of settlers. Ahead of him was an unknown world, inhabited by unknown tribes and deadly beasts.

And behind him, the Imitators trained up one of their own for a mission.

Part 1 Arrival

Chapter 1

July 1642, The New World

Linette Cole rested her hands on the rail of the flat-bottomed riverboat and gazed out at the green world unfurling before her. A long strand of strawberry-blonde hair worked loose from her bun, blew across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked a soldier behind her.

“That it is,” she answered, keeping her eyes forward, fixed on the land before her. The crystal-clear river was wide and slow-moving here, and along its banks stretched a flat, sandy plain. Not a hundred feet beyond that, the land rose into hills and then mountains, covered with trees in a deep green darkness, a misty and mysterious world that called to her and frightened her both at once. She’d heard countless stories of the dangers of the wilderness—beasts, sheer cliffs, strange diseases, and terrible storms—only slightly more frightening than rumors of the tattooed and godless Outsiders. The stories had been told to her, offered to her like stones in a wall meant to keep her in the Colonies.

The frontier was no place for a woman, they said.

Not even a woman like her.

She glanced away from the scene beyond the river as the conversations and confrontations of her last days in New Cranwell flickered over her eyes like a film. Countless moments, woven into a painful cloak of shame and loss that she hoped never to wear again.

They’d told her there was another way—they, the authorities of the Puritani kirk and colony, not least among them her own father. They’d sworn that she would grow used to her new position in the Colonies, used to being an outcast and a byword, used to the constant reminders of her aching loss, and she would accept it and find peace.

– – – – –

AUTHOR BIO — RACHEL STARR THOMSON

A speaker and spoken-word artist with 1:11 Ministries, Rachel leads audiences worldwide in exploring the depths of biblical truth. She is also the author of the Seventh World Trilogy, The Oneness Cycle, and many other books.

Her blog, Revelatory Creative, shares studies and stories to help believers discover the kingdom of God. Check it out (and get a free book or two!) at www.rachelstarrthomson.com.

Rachel lives in the beautiful Niagara Region of southern Ontario, just down the river from the Falls. She drinks far too much coffee and tea, daydreams of visiting Florida all winter, and hikes the Bruce Trail when she gets a few minutes. A homeschool graduate from a highly creative and entrepreneurial family, she believes we’d all be much better off if we pitched our television sets out the nearest window.

Why isn’t there more Christian fantasy?¹

Answer: Not enough readers are buying it.

That’s just the plain and simple fact, and you can read more of my reasons in this 2016 article. (Not much has changed in 1.5 years.)

But you may say: “Wait a minute! I know many people who would love this kind of fiction. They are Christians, and they love fantasy, so much that many of them even want to write it themselves. Also, they enjoy fantastical genres such as superhero movies or horror TV. So how come we’re not seeing more Christian fantasy?”

Answer: thank God for those people, but they’re still not enough to raise demand.

Why not?

Partly because watching fantasy does not equal reading fantasy.

Partly because many of these fans are content with non-Christian fantasy (neglecting the fact that Christians also still need our own subcultures).

And partly because of that very glut of folks in Christian-fantasy-writer circles. Since we lack many of these successful stories, more young Christians decide to take up writing. That raises demand for Christian fantasy at perhaps the exact rate of supply. So the end result becomes an equalization. Demand for Christian fantasy can’t naturally outpace the supply.

So what’s the solution?

How can we grow demand for these stories among readers and fans?

Answer: let’s joyously share these stories with more people who would love them.

Someone may respond: “But I’ve been doing that. I run my blog, I have a podcast, I write online reviews, I keep digitally publishing my own novels, I’m on the social networks …”

All those are great ways to grow this culture, and by all means, keep that up!

However, I meant: let’s joyously share these stories with more people in real life.²

Think beyond the blogs (which may attract only the fully committed aspiring-author folks), podcasts and online reviews (same results?), and social networks (which can increasingly drain your time and constrict outreach efforts, e.g. Facebook’s reduction of Page reach).

Think about the people in your real life.

Your local church.

Your Christian school.

Your family, volunteer organization, library, or circle of real-life friends.

How many of them would jump at the chance—or show even passing interest—in new, positively reviewed, enthusiastically promoted fantastical novels by Christian authors?

How many of them just might like to join a book club to explore these stories?

Say, a book club led by you, yes, you, who are already a fan of Christian fantastical fiction?

Someone may say, You don’t know my church. People aren’t interested in that.

Perhaps this is true. Perhaps my own church is an outlier. After all, my pastors loved the idea and shared support, and the flagship Lorehaven Book Club at Southern Hills Baptist Church in Round Rock, Texas (now featuring Firebird) has been going slow yet strong.

But I’ve also hosted a similar book club at my previous church, where my pastors were supportive but not personally invested in the idea of Christian fantasy. Nevertheless, we drew a diverse group of book explorers: homeschool parents and children, older couples, young dads, and single adults, including frequent visitors from outside our church.

In the process, we put these books on these people’s radar.

And that’s with a rather disorganized book club effort!

Imagine what even better organized book clubs could do!

Imagine a whole quarterly publication—Lorehaven magazine—dedicated to reviewing books and helping not just individual fans, but groups of fans to find this fantastical fiction.

Imagine a network of leaders who can help you find a club near you, or start your own.

And imagine a whole insider section, at this very website, where book club leaders can share news, swap tips, and of course, get exclusive (sometimes free) books to explore.

We’re putting this together at Lorehaven.com.

Novelist and Lorehaven Book Club coordinator Steve Rzasa

And we’ve recruited none other than novelist Steve Rzasa to help coordinate book club organization. He knows science fiction, fantastic geek-etry, and library work.³ As we move toward debuting Lorehaven’s first issue this spring, Steve will become guardian to the Christian-fantasy-book club galaxy. Watch this space to learn more when the time comes.

This leaves only a few closing questions:

Q. How many people want to start a book club?

A. Nearly forty souls have already told us they would like help starting a book club.

Q. How can I enjoy these courageous adventurers?

A. Easy. Sign up for Lorehaven updates and let us know you’re interested in starting a club!

Q. Can I find a book club near me?

A. Give us a few months, and perhaps we can answer “yes.”

Click to sign up for Lorehaven updates.

Meanwhile, you can join the flagship Lorehaven book club virtually.

Sign up for Lorehaven updates and note in the comment space that you’d like to participate.

Or comment below and say the same. (If you give your email address in the proper field when you post your comment, we can fetch the address from inside Speculative Faith so that you don’t need to share it publicly.)

I’ll add you to a small, exclusive email list with news, announced books, and club questions.

We’re exploring Kathy Tyers’s Firebird in February, and plan new books each month.

Q. I have another question!

A. Share it below! I’ll interact as often as needed so we can share these stories together.

This article discussing fantasy is a revised edition of one that appeared at Spec Faith 1.0 back in September, 2008. Surprisingly, these elements still ring true, and may be helpful in writing or ferreting out the best stories. While the article specifies “fantasy,” in reality the points are equally applicable to science fiction and other types of speculative stories.

– – – – –

I’ve had the chance to read a little fantasy published by general market houses—something I’d hoped to do for some time as a way to learn more. My question always is, What makes this work (or not)? Here’s what I’m learning.

Fantasy works if the premise is captivating. For one thing, it can’t seem like a same-old, same-old story. There has to be something new about it—a fresh angle, a different perspective, a unique character, an unexpected result … something. I remember when I first realized how much I loved fantasy and started searching for more, I dove into one book only to find a thin imitation of The Chronicles of Narnia. I read only that one book and moaned and groaned as I did so.

The premise can also be captivating if it is “high concept.” This was a buzz word among editors and agents for a time, though it seems to have faded in the background, at least in active discussions. From what I can determine, a high concept makes the story not only unique but important.

A fantasy that works must be a story with conflict. Things cannot resolve too easily or quickly. The characters need to struggle to accomplish what they set out to do. Which brings up the next point. < Fantasy that works has characters that act. They are not passive. They have strong wants or needs and they go out to find a way to acquire the object of their longing. Often these wants and needs morph as the character develops, but in every great story, the character is making things happen, not simply trying to survive a sequence of unfortunate events.

The characters are also realistic. This means, they are self aware and will admit to their shortcomings. They have personalities that are different from each other. Their mannerisms might get on a reader’s nerves—or on the nerves of another character. They try things, and sometimes those things work out, but a lot of times, they don’t.

As long as what they try makes sense, the trying itself endears these characters to readers, so another quality of these characters is that they are engaging. They make readers want to cheer them on.

If fantasy is to work, it must have a dense world. The place must feel new, vibrant, authentic, and not confusing. A number of years ago, I did a few critiques for a writer who had a world much like ours but for no reason I could discern, colors were different as were the names of things. So a rabbit was still a rabbit, it just wasn’t called that, and shrubs were blue instead of green—that sort of thing. The point is, there was no story reason for these differences. They were different just to be different. That doesn’t make fantasy work. The new things, the different things need to be necessary.

Finally, fantasy works if it has a theme worth having. The point behind the story needs to be woven seamlessly into the fabric so that it doesn’t stand out like an under-dressed guest at the opera. At the same time, it must actually be there. Readers often find more meaning to a story than an author intended, but in a genre dependent upon a good-versus-evil struggle, there needs to be a discernible theme once a reader puts in some thought.

There you have it, in a nutshell. Next time you read a fantasy, see how it measures in these areas: premise, conflict, realistic characters that act, a dense story world, a story that says something important. Then drop by Spec Faith and let us know what you discovered.

Exiles: Realms of the Infinite, Book One

by R. J. Larson

INTRODUCTION—EXILES

For daring to trust their Creator, Araine and Nikaros are swept from their homes into a foreign land—slaves to their enemies.

Araine Khalome of ToronSea follows the goddess Atea. But Araine secretly questions Atea’s power as a goddess. Wrestling with her spiritual doubts, Araine finds old scrolls containing verses that come alive, beckoning her soul. Within those words, Araine senses the presence of the Infinite, the despised Most Ancient God, enemy to all Ateans, and she’s captivated—secretly risking her life to read the Books of the Infinite.

You are forever in My sight . . .

Betrayed and condemned, Araine is swept away to the kingdom of Belaal, where she is swiftly apprehended and marked as a slave. Caught up in the lethal political and religious struggles within Balaal, Araine joins forces with another slave, Nikaros, a hostage and exiled son of an Eosyth Lord. As they fight to survive the antagonistic royal court, Nik and Araine soon realize that they must also protect the despotic god-king who has enslaved them.

But the god-king, Bel-Tygeon, has plans of his own.

Child of Dust, are you My servant?

– – – –

Other books in the series: Queen: Realms of the Infinite, Book Two

EXILES — EXCERPT

ToronSea would be a lovely place to live if it weren’t for her own people.

Clutching her marketing basket, Araine Khalome halted in the puddle-edged street and glared at two gangly young men—scrawny, cloak-clad Borii Kon and his only friend, Otris. As the smirking Otris stood guard, Borii swirled a black oil-stick against a pristine white wall, leaving a crude variant of the goddess Atea’s sacred serpentine coils.

“Borii!” Araine marched toward him, her sheer blue veils a-tangle with the spring breeze, their snapping briskness quite fitting her mood.

Spying her, Borii and Otris darted away, silently taunting her with wicked grins.

Araine stopped. Chasing those two was the last thing she wanted to do. Oh! If only the homeowner beyond that wall could catch those troublemakers and bloody their noses! Did Borii truly believe he was paying homage to the goddess with his unsanctioned artwork?

And how could divine Atea possibly be pleased? The elegant serpentine symbols of her powers had just been reduced to a blotchy mess, which would undoubtedly stir local ire against the goddess and against every Siphran Atean who’d immigrated to this quiet Traceland town of ToronSea. It would serve Borii and Otris right if the divine Atea were to overcast them this instant and banish their souls to the Nightlands. Scowling, Araine tugged her unruly veils closer. “Why can’t people behave? Where, for goodness sake, is their honor?”

Delicate footsteps clicked toward Araine in her sister’s distinctive dancer’s pace. Despite her wood-soled shoes, worn to defeat the mud, Iris was exquisite in her fine rose tunic and the sheer pink gossamer veils covering her gold braids. Her lilting voice amused, she linked her arm with Araine’s. “Talking to yourself again, little sister? Or are you now praying in the streets?”

“The only thing I’m praying right now is that fools such as Borii and Otris don’t cause the rest of us to run out of town!” She nodded toward the smeared goddess coils. “Why doesn’t Atea concern herself with mortal wrongdoings? Or right-doings, for that matter?”

“Sst!” Swiftly guiding Araine onward, Iris scolded beneath her breath, “Rain, hush! How can you dare to say such a thing? Your rebelliousness might call down woes from the heavens, and you sound like Grumps!”

“Well,” Araine huffed, secretly pleased by the comparison to Grandfather, “I’m only saying what I think, and Grumps might agree—as you should! Anyway, I’m not being rebellious. I’m longing to set things aright instead of bowing to wrong just because wrong is easier.”

“Safer!” Iris hissed. “It’s—”
“Poo!” Araine met her sister’s frosty, lovely gaze. “Setting wrongs aright will make things easier in the future. It’s wrong of that stupid Borii to scribble on other people’s clean walls, just as it was wrong of that brainless lordling to torture you in Atea’s . . .”

Iris flinched at Araine’s mention of her faithless love, and Araine bit down her impulsive rant. Heedless of any onlookers, she hugged her sister in the middle of the muddy street. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t ret. As soon as we’re settled today, I’ll burn my finest incense and prostrate myself in utter remorse before our shrine.” As best she could. Irritability didn’t lend itself to worship though divine Atea commanded her reverence.

Iris blinked back tears and shook her gold-braided head, in command of herself again. “Forget him, as I must. Oh, Rain, please be careful! And thank you for the incense. I dread to think of what might happen if you didn’t atone.”

But why must she atone? She wasn’t entirely wrong to wish the goddess would intercede, was she? Araine sniffed and rummaged through her basket for rose water and cleansing herbs and oils. “Borii and Otris are the ones who are heading for a cursing. And not from the goddess. Just look at that wall! I can’t endure it. I’m going to alert the owner, apologize, and then scrub the symbol from—”

“No!” Iris dragged Araine toward the opposite side of the street, almost running into a brown-robed woman carrying a tall clay water vessel.

The woman gasped, “Watch yourselves! Silly girls.”

Regaining her balance, Araine blushed and nudged her sister. “What did you do that for?”

Iris glanced around then muttered, “I won’t allow you to destroy the sacred symbol.”

“A mockery of the sacred symbol. There’s a difference.”

“There isn’t,” Iris argued. “If you’d attend lessons more often, you’d understand. Once the symbol is given form, it exists and becomes an instrument of her power.”

Nonsense. That smear of charcoal simply clung to the wall, looking ugly. What power? Araine swallowed her urge to voice the words. She didn’t mean them. At least not entirely. But what was wrong with her lately? Araine Khalome, daughter of Darion, leader of the Atean colony in ToronSea, should never fall prey to such impious notions. Indeed, she loved Atea. Even so . . . As soon as she reached home, she would send an anonymous note and some money to the homeowner to pay for a nice coating of plaster. Hiding the symbol wouldn’t destroy it, and—

Iris gave her a startling shake. “Stop! Your mood’s written all over your face! If you’re finished buying your supplies, then let’s whisk you away before someone from the gathering sees or hears you! What would our parents say if you’re dragged before the council at the next meeting? Really, Rain, what’s taken hold of you today? Perhaps you don’t fear for your well-being, but I do. Come away.”

– – – – –

AUTHOR BIO—R. J. Larson

R. J. Larson is the author of numerous devotionals and is suspected of eating chocolate and potato chips for lunch while writing. She lives in Colorado with her husband and their two sons. The Books of the Infinite series marks her debut in the fantasy genre.

“Larson makes the fantasy genre thrilling even for readers who wouldn’t normally venture into mystical realms. Though the battles waged resemble tales from the Old Testament, there is no preaching here, merely a compelling story of good versus evil in which good is sure to triumph.” –Booklist

Recently I saw the Academy Award-nominated film The Shape of Water.¹

(Spoilers follow!)

This film actually touches on the topic of being in the “image of God,” which is why I’m discussing it here.

But let me start by setting the stage with a general overview and review of the movie.

First, I wish I had paid more attention to the rating before I went and why it’s rated R. I long ago realized that I do not ever need to see a film that features female nudity–and this movie has some, showing both front and back in several scenes.

It also features the F-word, actually not gratuitously, but in describing sex and telling someone to “F off.” So even though the word makes sense in context, I do not care for the fact that modern culture needs to use this word to describe sex at times and needs to tell people, “f&&& you.

The movie also portrays (without showing in detail) female masturbation. And contains multiple scenes of cringe-worthy cruelty.

This is not a family film.

Second, I came out of the movie angered by the immoral morality tale aspects it contains (I was thinking of it as “mere propaganda” for a bit). What I found offensive includes the fact that the main character is a disabled, dis-empowered woman with a Hispanic last name (who is mute), whose best friends are an elderly homosexual man and a black woman employed on a cleaning crew. The story is set during the “bad old days” of early ’60s Cold War hysteria and open racial discrimination. A physically soft and emotionally sensitive scientist, employed by the Soviet Union as a spy at the secret U.S. government facility, provides critical help to the other three and qualifies as a lesser “good guy”–even though he is a Communist agent.

By contrast, the bad guy is a white heterosexual male (and “cisgendered,” in modern terms). He’s a right-wing patriot and a veteran, who references the Bible as if he believes it on three different occasions in the film and thus seems to be a “Christian” character (even though his behavior is in no way Christlike). He is trapped in rampant consumerism, harshly dismissive of others–and arrogant, racist, sexist, and violent.

Oh, and he is also a sexual harasser/potential rapist.

In fact, all clearly masculine characters in the story are bad, though none others so bad as baddie #1. Men who are good or somewhat good are soft-looking and/or homosexual. Men with rugged faces–and physically strong men and men in dominant positions of power are villainous.

The story is to an extent a modern morality tale, in which people the modern mindset sees as oppressed rise up against the white male oppressor in order to prevent him from fulfilling his horrific plan to vivisect the green creature living in the water (who came from South America, by the way). As such the film has certain virtues which it promotes, both overly and covertly, virtues from a view of the world that is distinctly non-Christian, though not in every way anti-Christian.

The first virtue the film praises is friendship, which underpins the relationships between the protagonist and her gay neighbor and black female co-worker. It also shows visual art and music in highly positive ways. As well as a measure of compassion for others–though that compassion is largely limited to those who are “oppressed,” some scenes in the film surprisingly show the main antagonist going through his own version of empty suffering, showing even a bit of compassion for him.

Though arguably the most important modern virtue in the film is a particular kind of personal self-fulfillment. The movie starts with people trapped in the smothering and depressing routines of daily life, yearning for something more, something that will change their lives. In other words, self-fulfillment. And the most important form of self-fulfillment in the movie is found in a sexual relationship.

Yes, I know this movie is billed as a romance and even though there are romantic aspects of the relationship between Elisa Esposito and the amphibious creature from South America, the most important part of the relationship is sexual, rather than romantic.

The creature, though it on a few occasions uses individual sign language words Elisa teaches it, never renders even one full sentence in reply to her, so their relationship has nothing to do with a meeting of minds. As far as how they interact, it treats her differently from other humans soon after they meet, but does not perform any romantic gestures with her (no gifts or hand-holding or arm around her shoulder), so the relationship between the two is not so much a meeting of hearts, either. She does play music for the creature and while it blinks and tilts its head in interest, this level of relationship is not the one which changes everything about the protagonist.

Elisa “before”

The key change in Elisa, when she begins to smile and puts a red band in her hair, does not happen after she meets the creature nor after she rescues him from the lab, nor after watching movies and listing to music with him, but not until after she has sex with him.

Sex–yes, in the context of love, is put on a pedestal as the ultimate attainment of love and self-fulfillment and cannot be restrained by ideas like marriage first or that relationships should be restricted to one’s own species or to heterosexuality. (Note that sex is what Elisa’s gay neighbor is lacking more than anything else, even though he also lacks success in his profession. Also, the villain’s sexual relationship with his wife is by contrast shown to be unloving and unfulfilling.)

Elisa “after” (with Zelda)

People as a general rule find morality tales that conflict with their own morality much more offensive than ones that support their views. I found what I thought of as the propaganda of The Shape of Water troubling mainly because I do not think sexual fulfillment deserves to be considered the highest human virtue. And also because of how it shows only one Bible-quoting character–the villain. Along with some other elements already mentioned.

But calling the movie “mere propaganda,” as if it were only a message piece and had no artistic value at all would not be fair. Hollywood has given this film 13 Oscar nominations, not just because it applauds what their subset of America deeply believes–the movie is also in some ways very beautiful because it features vivid and tender portrayals of characters, is visually striking, employs powerful symbolism, and has moments of strong emotional effect. It’s going to win some Oscars and from a certain point of view, it deserves them. Even though it’s also propaganda–a very well crafted and artistic version of propaganda.

One striking bit of propaganda happened when the villain discussed with two cleaning ladies (Elisa and Zelda, her black friend at work) the creature he had captured. He stated that the creature was not in the “image of God,” because that image is human, “like me.” Along with a racist swipe at Zelda for not being quite as much in the image of God as he is, the villain mentions the creature was worshiped in South America as “a god.”

Later, near the end of the film when he shoots the creature–who we can think of as a non-extraterrestrial alien–it heals itself by passing a hand over its body. The antagonist says in shock, “You really are a god,” just before this alien-from-Earth kills him.

I think the triumph of the non-human over the human being who proclaimed himself to be in the image of God was supposed to be a feel-good moment for the film viewers, a vindication of their concept of good, the oppressed rising up against the oppressor. But the statement the antagonist made before his death sticks with me. Why was it necessary for him to say that the creature, the Earth-bound alien, was “a god”?

Perhaps the movie merely meant to criticize the arrogance of believing oneself to be in the “image of God” while excluding others from being in that image. But sometimes stories have multiple meanings–was this also supposed to be a triumph of “a god” over “the image of God”? Or was that an accident of script writing, a coincidence? Even if an accident, is that a subliminal message of the film?–that “gods” will triumph over the followers of God?

Or is this film, perhaps unconsciously, participating in a general preparation to worship aliens? To regard creatures who are essentially human in character but different from us in physical form as something we should revere? (I realize these questions may sound rather paranoid, but I think they’re worth asking.)

Note, as reflected in what I have previously said in this series, I would consider the alien in The Shape of Water to be more human than not, since it’s mortal, communicates to a degree, and engages in romantic love (er, sex)(though in some ways it’s more like a wild animal than a human being). It does not qualify as being wildly exotic or transcendent from the human race in the way our Creator God actually is.

What do you think? Especially if you’ve seen the movie, but even if you haven’t, what do you think it means that a villain’s last words about an alien creature from Planet Earth was to call it “a god”?

What other thoughts do you have?

The Greatest Showman (now in theaters!) opens with an exuberant musical number titled – this follows logically – “The Greatest Show”. It’s on YouTube, of course, though merely listening pales against viewing it and, even more, viewing it in theaters. Part of the brilliance of this song is that it captures what made the greatest show and it was, above anything else, the greatest showman.

And what made the greatest showman? The song spins out an answer to that, too: his peerless ability to draw his audience into a world of his own construction. Call it persuasion or illusion, call it seduction or a con, but it is what he does. The song is an invitation and a promise. Here, beneath the colored lights, is the answer to the ache in your bones and the end of your search in the dark; this is what you’ve been waiting for. This is where you want to be, the greatest showman tells you, and this is what you want to have. “Tell me,” he asks, “do you want to go?”

Do you want to go? This is the question P.T. Barnum put to the crowds that flocked to his circus. The greatest showman was not without a touch of the conman, and he knew the great secret of the con: The “mark” participates in his own deception. A true conman doesn’t outwit his victims; he sells them what they want, and their own desires override their judgment. A true showman is also in the business of selling people what they want, and if they forget it isn’t real, it’s only because they want to. Barnum never had any pretension of hoodwinking people who didn’t take it as a pleasure.

Do you want to go? This is the question Hugh Jackman puts to anyone who ventures to his film. No one with a fine sense of balance, to say nothing of humor, could make a movie about P.T. Barnum and not mix in a dose of malarkey. The Greatest Showman lives by this. Happily anachronistic, luxuriating in the idea of 1800s New York without any undue attachment to the facts, making its nineteenth-century subjects reflect a little too clearly the values of its twenty-first century audience – it cannot be the way it was. But you’re willing to forget that for the spectacle and the joy and the thoughtful examination of a dreamer and his dreams.

Do you want to go? This is the question that every book and show and movie asks. A great deal has been said and written about how that movie strains human credulity or this book breaks the facts clean in half. Dramatic courtroom revelations aren’t really a thing, a punch to the face is enough to end any fight, love at first sight could get you into a car with a serial killer, it’s ridiculous that anyone – even with superpowers – would choose to save the world wearing a cape and tights. There are more solemn warnings of more pernicious falsehoods, reminders that we can’t really believe in the heroes and the happy endings, the perfect love stories and the last-minute rescues.

Yet I wonder – how often are we really fooled? Are these constructed worlds really so persuasive? But we want to go.

Today I happily announce that my old piece Can You Review My Novel? is null and void.

Previously, whenever authors asked Speculative Faith, Can you review my novel? we had to answer, “Probably not.” Why? Because Speculative Faith is run by volunteer writers. Most of the time we have our hands full with our weekly articles. (Some of us also maintain the Library, write for other websites, attempt our own novels, try to start magazines, etc.)

Anyone is welcome to share reviews with Speculative Faith. But if someone offers “get a free novel if you write a review”—we haven’t been able to say yes in 98 percent of cases.

Until now.

Now, if someone asks Can you review my novel?, then we’ll have only three questions:

1. Is the novel Christian—that is, by a Christian author?
2. Is the novel fantastical—in genre, such as fantasy, sci-fi, or supernatural/horror?
3. Is the novel published—either independently or traditionally?

If so, then yes, we would like to see this novel for possible review at Lorehaven.

This digital webzine, starting this spring, will feature micro-reviews of Christian-made, fantastical-genre, published novels—the newer and more excellent, the better.

Later, after each issue releases, reviews will also join the book in the Lorehaven Library.

Readers, this means you can find the kinds of books you want and that we recommend.

Authors, this means we’re working to put your book in the hands of new fans.

Lorehaven review standards

Each Lorehaven book review will be:

• Efficient. You can read the review in a flash.
• Smart. But not cynical or snarky-for-its-own-sake. We like great stories.
• Biblical. We’re Christians. So we review like Christians, while respecting stories’ right to go overt or subtle with any naturally occurring biblical themes.
• Current. We’re prioritizing newer novel releases.¹
• Positive. We strive to review only the best we get. ²
• Balanced. We watch for truth, beauty, goodness, and all three of their opposites.
• Excellent. We have high standards for books’ themes, imagery, and artistry.
• Useful. See at a glance which readers would best like this book.
• Practical. Parents, you can read about a book’s challenging content.
• Diverse. Different reviewers, subgenres, ages, maturity levels.

I’ve already begun editing existing reviews, and I’ve found many books I can’t wait to read. And you’ll love our sterling crew of reviewers (including several creatives from Speculative Faith): Austin Gunderson, Avily Jerome, Shannon McDermott, and Zachary Totah.

Click here to send your book for possible review by Lorehaven’s staff.

Lorehaven library

If we select a book, then due to demand and our quarterly schedule, its review could take some months. Then the review will only appear—at least at first—exclusively in Lorehaven digital magazine. (Sponsored reviews are also available; you can ask about this below.)

However, fans and authors can always recommend the book for a free listing in our online library of Christian-made, fantastical-genre, published novels.

Each listed book also gets shared with our social-media platforms, tagging the author in the process (that is, if he/she has shared social-media links with us). Book titles will also be linked in digital copies of Lorehaven, giving readers more info about any book we mention.

Click here to send your book (or favorite book) to the Lorehaven Library.

Any other questions?

If so, you can share a comment below.

Or ask us anything more confidentially with the suggestion box.

We look forward to using these new resources to help you, your family, and your church explore, review, and find truth in fantastic stories.

Is there a line that fantasy literature or speculative fiction in general can cross? I know some parents steer clear of the genre (see Friday’s guest article by Marian Jacobs) for just such a reason—there might be “evil things” that my child will read about, and I need to protect him from such.

Good parenting does mean the adults will make decisions on behalf of the child to protect him. “Hold my hand when we cross the street, Honey.” “Matches are not play things.” “We’ll keep the training wheels on until you’re a little older.”

Besides protecting children physically, parents also should protect their children emotionally and spiritually. Consequently, there are certain things that are not “age appropriate” that are on the internet, TV, Netflix, movies.

We seem fine with movie ratings that tell us which ones might have content that is not suited for small children, or even for young teens. Why, then, would not the same be true about books?

Not that I’m advocating rating systems. Those are only as good as the people doing the ratings and the standards they use. It’s pretty hard to insure their opinion will dovetail with each of ours. More than that. Rating systems take the responsibility off the shoulders of parents, where it belongs.

Parents should be aware and involved in the thought life of their children, and what they read feeds into their thoughts as much, if not more, than what they see.

So, what’s a parent to do, who has heard from this source or that, that fantasy is evil, yet their child wants to read the hot new book that all her classmates are reading, which just happens to be a fantasy?

I think there are some simple steps to take.

1. Resist the temptation to make a decision about fiction based on “what everyone is saying.” Simply because someone says Harry Potter is teaching witchcraft or is opposed to Christian truth, resist concluding that therefore Harry Potter is a book your child should not read or that all fantasy is taboo.
2. Read the books yourself. If your child wants to read a book you’ve heard about but aren’t sure about, either read it first or read it with your child.
3. Ask yourself what is true in this book, what is beneficial and then what is questionable or detrimental. Can a reader learn from the negative as well as the positive?
4. Engage your child in conversations about the various elements in the book. We can learn much about what children need, not by lecturing them out of context, but by asking them questions about characters they are invested in. Should Harry have done that? (since I’m using the Harry Potter books as examples.) What does Harry do that is consistent with the teaching of Scripture? How should he react to teachers who have questionable ethics or behavior? To fellow students?

I’d also add, resist the urge to turn reading into a lesson each and every time you discuss it. Sometimes it’s good to hear what your child liked in the chapter you read, what made the most impression on them, what they think will happen next.

But when are kids “too old” to be read to? For years I read to my 7th and 8th grader English classes every Friday afternoon. I suspect kids are too old when they lose interest in having an adult read to them. That doesn’t mean a parent shouldn’t also read the books they read, preferably before they do.

The point here is simple. Sometimes kids will come across something “objectionable,” something you’d rather they didn’t have to deal with, but would you rather have them deal with it on their own, in real life, without your guidance, or through fiction in conjunction with your counsel? In other words, “bad things” aren’t always “bad” in books, in the sense that your child shouldn’t be exposed to them.

I know comparing the Bible to fiction is often a tired argument, but when we talk about allowing kids to look at the real world and to give input into their conclusions, I think the Bible is an accurate comparison to fiction. Should we keep kids from knowing that King David committed adultery? that Samson was a womanizer? that Moses killed a man? At some point the Bible “stories” have to become connected to real life. Otherwise “do this” and “don’t do this” will never make sense. Our children will miss what God was doing in the lives of the people they read about in Scripture.

So with fiction and in particular, fantasy, children need to come to a point where they understand heroes have flaws and need to seek forgiveness or help or hope for the future. Evil happens and should be exposed as evil, not brushed under the rug or ignored as if it wasn’t there.

You as an adult can give them guidance about things like magic and wizardry. You can ask them if they think they could ever do the things Harry Potter does. In other words, you can be sure they have a good grasp of what is pretend and what is real.

But of course, that implies that each of us has thought through the issues of the imaginary, the make-believe, the faery tale versus the real. I suppose that needs to come first.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spoken with a mature Christian friend about their uncertainty of the role of fiction and imagination.

They may know it’s good in a nebulous sense, but what should they do when their child suddenly has an appetite for fantasy? What if they ask to read Harry Potter?

They don’t consider themselves fundamentalists, yet they think fantasy poses a real threat to their child.

In November 2017, my article, “The Dark Alleys of Young Adult Fiction” was published by Desiring God. This piece was intended only to warn against sexual content in young adult fiction. But the Facebook status that accompanied the article was confusing to say the least. It read:

In their defense, they might have meant sexual fantasy, not the genre. But that isn’t how many people read it—and understandably so. The emails I received afterward questioned not only the cleanliness of their child’s literature, but also the fantastical elements.

Is a specific book or series okay to read? How can parents tell if a fantasy novel will encourage their child to use magic?

Those are the wrong questions to ask.

In all my years of reading fantasy, I have yet to meet someone who joined the occult after reading a book with magic in it.

Ask yourselves this instead:

What negative impact will it have on my child’s mind and heart if I don’t let them read fantasy?

That is a far more pressing concern and one more Christian parents should have.

“In the beginning God created . . .”

The first character trait we learn about God is that he is creative. In the same chapter we discover our own place in the cosmos: “So God created man in his own image; he created him in the image of God; he created them male and female. God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it. Rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and every creature that crawls on the earth.’”

That last bit is known as the “cultural mandate.” As divine image bearers, we’re commanded to fill the earth, subdue it, cultivate it.

In The Mind of the Maker, Dorothy Sayers argues that creativity is the primary way humankind are made in God’s image. Our ability to create beauty is an essential part of fulfilling the mandate. This includes everything from farming, engineering, music composition, and space exploration—cultivating all the possibilities of God’s creation.

So why advocate creating fantasy specifically? After all, there’s a lot of fantasy out there that’s just plain weird, for example, anything made by Tim Burton, Jim Henson, and Hayao Miyazaki. We think these storytellers must be very strange. How did they come up with something so jarring and disturbing? We decide they’re probably mentally unstable, therefore what they’ve created must be bad. We certainly wouldn’t want to expose our children to the creation of a mad man!

In his essay, “On Fairy-Stories,” Tolkien addresses this issue:

I am thus not only aware but glad of the . . . connexions of fantasy with fantastic: with images of things that are not only ‘not actually present,’ but which are indeed not to be found in our primary world at all. . . . That the images are of things not in the primary world (if that indeed is possible) is a virtue, not a vice. Fantasy (in this sense) is, I think, not a lower but a higher form of Art, indeed the most nearly pure form, and so (when achieved) the most potent. Fantasy, of course, starts out with an advantage: arresting strangeness. But that advantage has been turned against it, and has contributed to its disrepute. Many people dislike being ‘arrested.’ They dislike any meddling with the Primary World, or such small glimpses of it as are familiar to them. They, therefore, stupidly and even maliciously confound Fantasy with Dreaming, in which there is no Art; and with mental disorders, in which there is not even control: with delusion and hallucination.

When we encounter stories that jar us with their strangeness, we should not run from them but to them. They’re strange to us because another person has experienced things we haven’t and has grown their imagination either in a different direction or to a larger degree than we have. This is not evil. Imagination, especially the arresting kind, increases our ability to stand in awe of God and his creation. Strangeness draws our eyes, and in so doing, places special emphasis on truth and reality.

Even non-Christians have something to teach us about reality through unreality. God has given them common grace—the grace that God gives all humans to see and understand truth. Armed with our ability to think critically about culture, we can learn from them and grow our own imagination to better worship God. Any yet, it’s because we cannot think outside the box of normalcy that we cripple our critical thinking capacity.

The Bible itself has excessively weird stories, many of which are metaphors—unreality used by God to convey truth. And yet we not only disengage from such practices when people create similar stories, but condemn it.

Back to the original question, what do we deprive from our children when we don’t allow them to read fantasy? It’s not like many people will spend their lives sub-creating—when a human creates an imaginary world in divine imitation—in the same manner as Tolkien. Yet, if using imagination to create—whether it be a story, a car engine, plans for a building, a board game, or dance choreography—is a virtue, expanding its scope through unusual stories will only further our talents as well as our sanctification.

Reject the notion that fantasy is mere entertainment. That is an ugly word for what is really going on in our hearts when we engage with fantasy. We are seeking our own joy, and in so doing, expanding our imagination which furthers our journey toward virtue, and therefore, glorifies God.