Kevin C. Neece, author of The Gospel According To Star Trek, agreed to answer a few interview questions for me. Because they were so few, I told him to be expansive in his answers. He was. The result is a thoughtful article that is too long for one blog post. Consequently, we’re breaking it into two. Today, the first two questions.

RLM: I understand you have a degree in Communication and Philosophy and another in Fine Arts. That sounds quite heady and literary. So, why Star Trek?

KCN: Well, in the first place, my degrees aren’t all that intimidating. We’re all philosophers to one degree or another. In fact, one of the main reasons I do the work I do is to get people who may not think of themselves much as philosophers and theologians to begin engaging these important questions and ideas of human existence. The ideas I discuss in my writing and speaking may be at home in university classrooms, but they’re things we all wonder about and wrestle with in our everyday lives.

In my book on Star Trek, I talk about the fact that many philosophers and theologians have defined humans as Homo Religiosus, essentially saying that we are an instinctively religious species in that we look for higher meaning and greater purpose in our lives. Philosophy and theology are just disciplined schools of thought that help us to explore the things we think about naturally, whether we’re looking up at the clouds or watching Star Trek.

Initially, the idea that we’re engaging in something philosophical, or even spiritual, by watching a sci-fi adventure show may seem strange, but Star Trek has always been philosophical in nature. It’s not just a show about cool-looking starships, nifty gadgets, and clever plots. It’s really about the human condition—who we are, what our place in the universe is, and where we’re going. The big questions of existence have always been the driving force behind Star Trek, so putting its TV series and films into conversation with philosophy and theology is really not that unusual.

At first, though, I didn’t really see it that way. I’ve been a Star Trek fan for nearly thirty years, but, for most of that time, I didn’t see my faith and my Christian worldview reflected in it. The first line of my book about Star Trek is, “My first step toward The Gospel According to Star Trek was walking away from Star Trek.”

When I was a senior in high school, there was a lot of Star Trek on TV, but I had a really busy life and I just got behind on episodes. And we didn’t have DVRs in those days. I had to catch reruns. I was having a hard time getting into the new series that were on and it just got to be too much for me. So, except for the films, I basically stopped watching Star Trek.

But later, in college, I took an Intro to Philosophy course that changed my whole worldview—it even introduced me to the concept of worldview! Suddenly, I wasn’t getting an education just to get a degree to get a better job in video and film. I realized that my education was about becoming a better human being and that this was an inherently spiritual pursuit.

I learned that there was no separation between the “sacred” and the “secular,” that God is at work everywhere in our human experience. It was with these new eyes that I returned to Star Trek. I saw the films and television I loved in a whole new light, and Star Trek began to inform my faith in new and exciting ways. That was the birth of The Gospel According to Star Trek.

RLM: Have you compared Star Trek with Star Wars? Do you think the two originators of those franchises were trying to accomplish the same things? If so, what? And did they both succeed?

KCN: What is this evil thing of which you speak? Star Trek and Star What, now? Star who? Star where?

Just kidding. I love Star Wars. I’m learning to say that again after the prequel years, but in my bedroom when I was growing up, right next to my box window where I’d strung up Christmas lights to hang my Star Trek Christmas ornaments year round, there was another string of lights that trailed over to form a border around framed posters for Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi. That said, I am much more of a Trekkie. The Gospel According to Star Wars is somebody else’s book. (Josh C. McDowell’s, for the record.)

In many ways, it’s hard to see much parity between the two. Star Trek is a science fiction universe rooted in human ingenuity and inquiry, and Star Wars is a fantasy story that just happens to include space travel and robots alongside its wizards, magic, and epic quests.

But both Star Trek and Star Wars do deal with issues of faith, with ideas of calling and destiny, and with the human search for identity as both individuals and as members of a community. But they deal with these ideas in very different ways.

One of George Lucas’s expressed purposes for making Star Wars was to tell a story that would encourage young people to think about morality, to see that there is a moral order to the universe, and to explore spirituality and religion.

Gene Roddenberry certainly also wanted to tell stories about morality and discuss important social and ethical issues, but the spirituality and religion contained in Star Trek is much less explicit. Roddenberry rejected his Southern Baptist heritage and does more to caution against false religion than to encourage people toward religion in general.

Lucas blends his Methodist background with Buddhism and Eastern Mysticism to intentionally apply a religious framework to his stories and characters. Both creators, though, applied their own spiritual journeys to the creation of their respective fictional universes.

In the first section of The Gospel According To Star Trek, I spend four chapters exploring Roddenberry’s religious background and theology and the major, somewhat controversial, claim I make in that section is that he was not an atheist. He certainly was not a Christian, not at the least even a traditional monotheist, but he did have a concept of God. His theology had more in common with pantheism—the idea that everything is God—than Christianity, even though his Christian background gave him his moral framework. He believed that all human beings are a part of God and are becoming God.

Though it’s technically not a very good comparison, some people have heard what Gene had to say about spirituality and have concluded that the creator of Star Trek believed in the Force! That’s not actually true, but it’s pretty close. In any case, the two are not so much in opposition to each other as is popularly imagined.

And I think they’re both successful in accomplishing their goals. That’s why we keep coming back to them. These series have managed to tell exciting, engaging stories that also give us a sense of larger meaning and purpose in our lives. All you have to do is watch the YouTube video of a dad showing Star Wars to his young son for the first time and see what an emotional and beautiful moment this is for him as a father to know that these things affect us all on very deep levels.

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Kevin C. Neece is an author and speaker on media, the arts, and pop culture from a Christian worldview perspective. A former professor, Kevin holds a BAS in Communication and Philosophy and an MLA in Fine Arts. He lives with his wife and son in Fort Worth, Texas.

His latest book is The Gospel According To Star Trek: The Original Crew.

The debate over which is more important, character or plot, is hardly fresh territory. It is a highly subjective topic and everyone has valid reasons for why they support this or that side of the argument. Even this website has hosted discussions on this issue, but since it is such a critical topic, I figured I’d jump into the ring as well.

First things first: I’m a plot guy. If you’ve read any of my books, it’s easy to notice that I’m all about the action and moving the story forward. I don’t lovingly craft each character and make special effort to flesh them out to their fullest humanity. I try not to peddle one-dimensional characters of course, and I’m sure I succeed at times and fail at others, but when I write, I’m always thinking, “What happens next?” not “How can I reveal another facet of their character?” or “Who are they, really?” I view characters as the gears that drive the plot forward, which is probably why so few of them get out alive.

There is undoubtedly a cyclical and symbiotic relationship between character and plot. Who the character is determines what will happen in the story, and the events of the story shape who the character is, etc. They are both cogs that turn each other. From a writing craft perspective, this can be a very existential and convoluted discussion, so let’s take it to street level.

For the fans, the answer is simple: character wins. Fans create cosplays and draw fan art and even write fan fiction based on their love of specific characters. This adoration is exceptionally strong in the speculative fiction genres (I haven’t seen any pictures of Alex Cross or Jack Reacher cosplayers). The characters of Firefly, Star Trek, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, and numerous other franchises are beloved even more than real people. Having a movie or TV series helps, but even characters that exist only on the page are cherished by fans the world over. These fans love a good story, of course, but what they really want is to see their favorite hero or heroine shine in the face of danger and brave exciting adventures. In some respect, it doesn’t matter what the characters are doing as long as it is the characters that are doing it.

Personally, I’ve never been so wrapped up in any character. I was never really into superheroes growing up, and while I loved my Transformers and G.I. Joes when I was a kid, they were always just toys and cartoons. There was one literary character, however, who seemed as real as any real person to me: Sherlock Holmes. I devoured every single story Doyle wrote about him. I knew he’d always get his man in the end, but I was fascinated about how he’d reach that destination. Holmes the man was more interesting than the mysteries he encountered, but it was those mysteries that illuminated his fascination character and personality.

Like all things in life, balance is the ideal, and I have yet to encounter a work of fiction that better balances plot and characters as The Lord of the Rings. The characters are complex, three-dimensional beings with different motivations, flaws, strengths, and worldviews. Yet the urgency and undeniability of the plot is almost a character in itself. I never got the feeling that Tolkein was so in love with his characters that he crafted a story around them simply to give them a backdrop to dance and twirl and show everyone how well-built they were. The characters never seemed above the story, which is the tendency of so many writers who construct franchises around their beloved characters to answer the question, “How are they going to succeed this time?” In The Lord of the Rings, the final outcome was satisfying yet still unexpected, and even the strong characters were swept along by events far greater than they were.

Times and tastes have changed. Bookshelves today are packed with the tenth or eleventh book in a long-exhausted franchise because the readers, and often the writer, love their characters too much. Simply put, if you are an author who wants commercial success, create a remarkable character and give them a playground in which to frolic as the fans watch and cheer. If you go for gripping plot and have no hesitation about sacrificing characters that readers may end up getting attached to, you’ll give them a satisfying few hours but the impression will fade quickly. If you can do both, you just might have the next classic on your hands.

You ever had one of those weeks when you feel as if you got run over by a pack of orcs? And then dropped down the deepest mineshaft in Moria? And then stranded in the Emyn Muil?

Coming off one of those weeks, I can say it’s about as fun as getting toasted in Mount Doom.

Yet such times—whether they feel more like trials by endless fire or wandering through darkness with no idea where you’re going and wondering how anything can make sense—are part of life. A necessary part, in fact.

Often, the dark trials are what strengthen us, not the ease-filled traipses through flower-strewn meadows.

This is a recurring theme in fiction, nowhere more apparent than fantasy.

Tales of wonder and exploration and pure adventure, to be sure. Yet also ones that speak to reality in a powerful way, taking the ordinary and re-framing it in the extraordinary. A new context that lets us see truth from a different perspective.

Too many times, it’s as if we’re driving down the familiar roads we’re so accustomed to—heading to work, school, church. We don’t appreciate our surroundings as we should. Fantasy stories present an opportunity to see those same surroundings, but in a completely different way—driving down the road in a different city, different state, different country.

When that’s the case, we value those surroundings. They pop with new vibrancy and make us take notice.

Shallan Davar, Words of Radiance

The same is true of truth in fantasy. Let’s explore some examples.

1. Sacrifice

What better story to turn to than The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe? There we find one of the most telling illustrations of finding truth in fantasy. Aslan dies for Edmund, a worthless brat of a kid who deserved his punishment at the hands of the White Witch.

Or think of Sam. Good old Sam, who left his peaceful garden and simple life to accompany Frodo into the wide, dangerous world. Who refused to turn back or give up. Who stuck by Frodo’s side during Frodo’s worst moments.

2. The triumph of good

Talk about a common theme. It’s as bountiful as wizards at Hogwarts. And well it should be, as one of the foundational aspects of fantasy storytelling. In the end, the good side wins.

• The Ring is destroyed and Sauron defeated forever.
• Aslan comes back to life and kills the White Witch
• Eragon defeats Galbatorix

3. Failure

One of my favorite characters is Achan Cham. He’s a failure. He struggles mightily at times. He doesn’t always do the right thing for the right reason. In a word, he’s relatable.

We’ve all been there. Gripped with doubt, crippled by failure.

In spite of his shortcomings, Achan’s faith helps him remain strong. It’s a good reminder for us.

4. Redemption

Returning to Narnia, we have the obvious examples of two of the most hated and loved characters in fiction. Eustace and Edmund. Selfish, unloving monsters who didn’t deserve the second chance they both were given, the mercy they received, the forgiveness for their awfulness.

Applying Fantasy Truth to Real Life

As I said, there are those days and weeks when we’re certain we’re drowning. There’s no escape from the relentless pounding of the surf.

Fantasy is a distant island filled with troves of treasure we can mine if we only pay attention and know what we’re looking for.

Sometimes we feel like Eustace with his dragon skin. We try and try to claw our problems and weaknesses away, but our efforts are futile. We need Aslan to come in and rip down to the deepest parts of our soul. Because only then can we be restored.

Sometimes we feel like Sam and Frodo, lost in the suffocating darkness of Shelob’s Lair. How can life be so dark, so void of hope and the promise of light? We stumble about, uncertain, disoriented by some darkness that has swallowed us.

Yet there is hope that darkness will pass, as we’re poignantly reminded by Sam.

Sometimes we feel like Nym from Storm Siren. Looking into the deepest recesses of ourselves, we see something we hate. The darkness, the despair. Or we’re like Shallan, hiding something from our past too horrible to let out from the corner of our souls in which we’ve locked it. How can there be any hope? How can the burden be lifted?

Then the reminders come. Truth breaks through, rays of sunshine penetrating the gloom-ridden clouds.

Throughout the pages of fantasy, we find these rich truths that reflect life in so many ways. Not only is that encouraging, it’s a comfort. We remember the redemption stories. We think back to those characters who suffered, who we identify with in so many ways.

We know they survived. They were given new life, saved from the deepest darkness, and rescued when it looked hopeless.

That is their story, and it’s our as well.

What are some of your favorite truths you’ve discovered in fantasy?

In his recent guest spot here at Spec Faith, Matt Mikalatos wrote about returning to superhero fandom by writing his own superhero story. That idea got me to thinking about what I like to read. After all, I began The Lore Of Efrathah series because I wanted another portal story similar to Stephen Donaldson’s Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever books.

I know some writers get their start by writing fan fiction, and others create stories that are spin-offs of fairytales they’ve loved.

I started to wonder what sort of stories the visitors here at Spec Faith consider ideal. I don’t think we’ll have a consensus. I mean, speculative fiction is such an all-encompassing term. It includes space opera like Star Wars, superhero stories like Wolverine, horror like Dracula, high fantasy like Game of Thrones, steampunk like Jim Butcher’s The Aeronaut’s Windlass, dystopian like Hunger Games, hard science fiction like Kim Stanley Robinson’s Aurora, fairy tale retellings like Gregory Maguire’s Wicked, supernatural suspense like Stephen King’s Doctor Sleep or G. P. Ching’s Soulkeepers series. I could go on and on because the variations of speculative fiction are so numerous.

Horror alone comes in all sorts of packages—monsters, psychological torture, alien threats, demon possession. The different types aren’t equal and may not attract the same reader.

Each of the subgenres has various ancillary categories. Fantasy, for instance, can be high fantasy or sword and sorcery fantasy or fairy tale fantasy or magical realism or science fantasy.

I’m an eclectic reader overall. I’m currently in a biographies reading phase, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my favorites. If I had my choice, I’d read something Tolkien-esque. I don’t think I could ever get tired of reading stories that harken back to the great journey quest.

Horror on the other hand . . . I’m not a fan. I’ve read some psuedo-horror and one or two true horror stories, and I don’t care for either. The psuedo-horror seems to fall flat. I know it’s trying to be frightening, but it just isn’t quite getting there as far as I’m concerned, and I sort of resent the attempt. The true horror takes me places I don’t think I need to go. As a Christian I have strong opinions about who and what I should fear, and what I found in the few horror stories I read generated what I considered to be unhealthy fear. So I’m not a fan.

I wouldn’t say I’m a big fan of steampunk either, but I recently read a book that fell into that category—one by K. M. Weiland, actually labeled as dieselpunk, entitled Storming—and I really liked it. I’ve read fairy tale retellings that I haven’t liked but fairy tales that have me going back for more.

Still, there’s that one favorite, the book, or in my case, the series, that I’ll re-read countless times. The one I’d like to live in.

What about you? Which type of speculative fiction is your favorite? Which book or series do you find yourself re-reading? If you write, in what genre or subgenre does your work fit? And a bonus question: what book did you read last (fiction or non-fiction)?

When I was a kid, I was the biggest Star Wars fan I knew.

I was three years old when I first saw the movie (never called “A New Hope” in those days). In the years to come I had Star Wars sheets, a Darth Vader poster over my bed, an ever-expanding collection of toys, and various homemade Star Wars accouterments. I baked Wookie Cookies. My mom baked an R2-D2 birthday cake. I dressed as Luke Skywalker for Halloween one year, and Chewbacca the next. I knew the name of ever creature who crossed the screen, had read the novel adaptation so I could know what happened in the deleted scenes, read all the spinoff novels (there were only a handful) and carefully studied “The Force of Star Wars,” a Christian dissection of the movie that showed how the movie was a carefully veiled Christian allegory (a book that fell apart as more movies released).

Those few kids who liked Star Wars on a similar level were my best friends. They were my tribe, my community. There was never a question about what we would play. Instead, we fought over who got to be Han Solo.

Over time, my friends and I lost our title as “biggest fans” as people started to have Jedi weddings, get Darth Vader tattoos, and sleep inside tauntauns. I couldn’t keep up with the proliferation of tie-ins, comic books, the “expanded universe” and all the cartoons and fan fiction. What happened to the good old days, I wondered, when being a true fan meant you knew who Mace and Cindel were and had fond memories of Jaxxon, the smuggler from Coachella Prime? A slow disenfranchisement set in, where I went from being a Star Wars expert to a true fan to a fan, and from a fan to a guy who liked some old movies.

At least I still had comic books.

Except comics have gone through a similar commodification: the big companies which own the characters realized the fans wanted more, so they provided it. Toys, movies, cartoons, shirts, TV shows, keychains, car decals. These are all things I’ve wanted since I was a kid (except the car decals . . . that one never occurred to me).

A terrible side effect of this commodification has been a calcification of the status quo. Characters can’t be killed anymore; money has made everyone immortal. Character marriages might last, or they might also be ret-conned or removed. Peter Parker, the amazing Spider-Man, used to be married and in fact he had a baby with Mary Jane (a baby who was kidnapped by the Green Goblin and then, strangely, forgotten, then turned out to have died, all making way for a big reveal that restored the status quo with a return of Aunt May, who had been thought dead). Of course none of those things mattered much after (in a literal deal with the devil), Peter Parker and Mary Jane’s marriage was annulled by way of continuity reset.

At some point, everything in a hero’s life has to be returned to zero. We can’t change them too much or mess with the formula, because messing with the formula could mess with the bottom line. Right now in the comics Wolverine is dead (being replaced with a future timeline version of Wolverine and a female, cloned version of Wolverine). Superman is dead (though his previous incarnation from another universe is alive, along with his wife and son AND a Clark Kent who appears to be the Clark who used to be the now-dead Superman). Captain America is a long term sleeper agent Nazi (he was dead not too long ago, and then an elderly man), and Batman has died more than once in recent memory, though he’s chugging along just fine in the current books. They’ll all be returned to “normal” soon enough.

Basically, the big corporate comics have a great deal of conflict but precious little transformation. Everything has to be reset, rebooted, relaunched, and retold.

One other painful experience for comic book lovers is the rotating creators, sometimes bringing amazing stories, and sometimes bringing stories that seem to undermine everything you love about a character. For me, the best example is the current cinematic expression of Superman. Superman is Christopher Reeve and SuperFriends. He’s charming and kind and while there may be problems, he always overcomes, even if he has to reverse time in a climactic moment that makes about as much sense as gaining super powers by landing on another planet. For years our cinematic Superman has been someone I don’t recognize or enjoy, because the writers have moved him from “boy scout” to “slightly-less-than-regular guy who is doing his best.” He’s dour and painfully unaware of people around him and, honestly, a little slow-witted.

Don’t get me wrong, I still like Star Wars. I still buy comics. I still have fond memories of my fandom. But I can’t, for instance, wear a Superman shirt and feel totally committed. I have mixed feelings.

These are the sorts of things that led me to create my own superhero universe. I wanted some characters who could be part of stories I found compelling and interesting, where there were real stakes and real drama and real risks. If a character dies in my universe, they’re not going to star in a spinoff series two months later. And because there are real stakes and there is real transformation, I find the stories more exciting, compelling and, I hope, more beneficial for the audience. (And, a side benefit, I get to be the biggest fan of all, because I know more about the characters and the world they inhabit than anyone else does. Which isn’t a prerequisite for enjoying something, but it sure is fun.)

The main characters in Capeville are teenagers, partly because of my love of comics like Legion of Super Heroes and Teen Titans, but also because I want them to have room to grow, to change, to learn and be transformed. The main five teens are John Ajax (a kid with no powers), Lightning Cat (a young woman who creates electricity through kinetic action), Jupiter Girl (a Jovian powerhouse), Pronto (the speedster) and the Gecko (a wall-crawling superhero with more experience than the rest of them).

I have five books planned, and there are going to be some amazing challenges in their future. None of them will come through it unscathed. But they’re going to learn about family, and friendship and what it means to be a hero, and (spoiler) they’re going to choose to embrace all three of those things.

I love these characters. My artist, M.S. Corley, and I send emails back and forth as we create the look of the characters, and I cannot wait for each new iteration. I made a Black Vulture t-shirt, which I wear happily. I find myself doodling pictures of the characters in my notebook.

I’m a fan again! And I’m having more fun than ever.

How about you? What’s your fan experience? How does that intersect with your writing, your reading, or your theology?

For more information about Capeville, check out the Capeville website. Read some of the first pages here.

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Matt Mikalatos is an author with seven published books, some of which are theology and some of which are speculative fiction, and one of which is a comedy theology novel about a werewolf looking for redemption by going to church with his idiot neighbor. Check out his website at http://www.mikalatos.com