Christian Realism

I recently saw an advertisement for The Undercover Revolution by Iain H. Murray, published by the Banner of Truth. Like many other Christians, I’ve benefited over the years from BoT publications, and especially from Mr Murray’s writings. The topic of this book was one that I found particularly interesting, not because it was something I’d never thought of before, but because of the forcefulness with which it seemed to be being put forth. As the text on the BoT page claims, “How Fiction Changed Britain!” (which is also the subtitle of the book). The quote from John Macarthur on that page also paints a strong picture: “Iain Murray has put his finger on the turning point that sent western culture down the path to immorality. It is a persuasive explanation that we need to hear.”

This was most definitely an interesting premise, and one that I have most assuredly thought about over the years. But the marketing of this book seemed to be making the case more strongly than I had ever seen it. It seems to me to be claiming a role for fiction that might be a bit stronger than reality, so I quickly purchased the book to see what the actual claim is.

To put it simply, I was disappointed, not because Mr Murray doesn’t have a point, but because the book is not quite enough to make that point. As Mr Murray points out in his introduction, “My theme — the influence of fiction on society — is worthy of much more expansion than I have given to it here. I hope I have said enough to alert others to the importance of what is too commonly overlooked.” Alas, I have to wholeheartedly concur with him about that. This is something that needs some more analysis, especially after Mr Murray’s book.

The book is quite short, clocking in at 110 pages. It is divided into two parts: part one is really the ‘meat’ of the argument with part two an extended essay about how Christianity is not fictional but based in fact. Part one runs for the first 76 pages, which are divided into five short chapters. Chapter one is a six-page introduction to the book. Chapter two, 18 pages long, is a brief overview of Robert Louis Stevenson’s life, focusing on how he was hostile to Christianity and its teachings. Almost entirely absent from this chapter is any discussion of how this affected RLS’s writings. How much was his godlessness reflected in his writing? A lot? A little? Not at all?

Chapter three is 22 pages devoted to Thomas Hardy (a favorite author of mine and MrsBlue’s, by the way). Again, very little discussion on the writings of Hardy himself, although a bit more than in the chapter on RLS (and what is there focuses on Hardy’s poems, which is not a surprise, since the anti-Christian hostility is much more readily expressed in the poems). Chapter four is 10 pages long and with a title of ‘The Novelists Multiply’ you can readily guess that there’s not much deep analysis going on.

The final chapter of this section is ‘General Lessons’ which is where some of the analysis starts to happen, but at 20 pages, there’s not much analysis that can happen. In the end, very little actual analysis of the literary works of the various authors happens. Instead, what the reader is presented with is the fact that many of the late Victorian/early Edwardian authors were godless and God-hating, but how did that change Britain as the subtitle claims? We’re not given that answer, but only given the beginnings of what could be a strong thesis.

I’m not against this book — there’s a lot here that Mr Murray is starting to hint at that I think will stand up to a rigorous analysis — but the book doesn’t deliver what its subtitle promises. In the end, we must either make some broad assumptions (which do no one any good) or we are left wondering, “How did fiction change Britain?”

(Cross-posted from my personal blog.)

The SF/F community is all abuzz about the announcement that insanely best-selling author Terry Pratchett has early-onset Alzheimer’s.

While many in Christian SF/F fandom are now praying for Pratchett (and rightly so), may I also suggest that perhaps something that would show Christian love would be to donate to a charitable organization that is working toward finding a cure? Many in SF/F fandom are openly hostile to Christianity, viewing us as hypocrites. And while prayer is definitely what Mr. Pratchett needs (as he always has), putting our pockets where our prayers are would send a great message that Christians love not only in the ‘easy’ task of prayer, but in other ways, as well.

We don’t know. It’s that simple.

The person in question, of course, is Albus Dumbledore, and the question is about his sexuality, which his creator, J.K. Rowling, has declared is homosexual. (Story is here for the two of you who just discovered the Web and hadn’t heard.)

With a series as insanely popular as the Harry Potter books are, it is to be expected that something like this announcement would create an uproar. After a decade, we finally had the last installment this past summer; we all read it quickly, wanting to know how it all turned out; and we felt a strange sense of relief that the series was over and that it ended fairly well.

And then the author makes this declaration.

One of the immediate questions is why didn’t she tell us this in the books, instead of waiting to do it this way? There has been much speculation about it, but I’m not sure if that really matters. Instead, what we should be wondering is whether this ‘revelation’ really changes anything.

I’m a strong advocate of a hermeneutic of ’solus textus’ (or ‘Sola Scriptura’ when referring to the Bible). That is, we should use only what we find within the text to interpret the text. We should refer outside the text only when doing so is required by the textual question itself. (For example, if you were wondering what was the origin of a word in one of Tolkien’s invented languages, you’d most likely have to look outside of The Lord of the Rings.) But for an issue like the sexuality of a character — something that the text should address — we should look only to the text. If the author didn’t put it in the text… well, nuts to the author. That’s her fault, not ours.

As far as I’m concerned, the question of Dumbledore’s sexuality was finished when Rowling sent the final proofs to her publisher and the book went to press. If she thinks of Dumbledore as homosexual, that’s her right. But the text does not explicitly state that and so no one can declare definitely from the text that he is. And since the text is what matters here, any statements by the author after the book has been published can be accepted only as apocryphal and not canonical. If she were to write an eighth book and in it declare Dumbledore to be gay, then we would have a text that clearly states it, but not until then.

SF author (and Christian) John C. Wright has written a series of insightful posts discussing the writings of Philip Pullman. I think Mr. Wright says it well, so I’ll let him speak:

My big problem with Pullman is the two relating writing errors of (1) plot points introduced only when convenient and not before (2) no follow-through; plot points set up but then simply forgotten.

I am claiming the PLOT SUCKS.

Lest I use a technical terminology you non-writers cannot follow, allow me to explain.

And his explanation is at his livejournal.

(Be sure to read some of his other entries.)

I agree strongly with Mr. Wright: the problem with Pullman is not his fake ‘God’ (or Authority, as he likes to call it) but that he holds all the cards and gets to call the shots and so what we end up with is like Dawkins’ travesty of a book. But with Pullman, since it’s a novel, he needs to explain the gun on the mantle in act one, which he never does. He pulls the strings even more than Dawkins ever does. And that’s saying a lot.

Yes, that dreaded thing called Real Life ™ has been keeping us all busy — or at least those of us who blog here. I’ve tried to get some of the other Realists to take a shot at blogging, but to no avail.

My wife has not been feeling well, which has taken up all of my spare time for the past few months, but I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel and I’m fairly sure it’s not an oncoming train.

There have been a few items worth noting in the past couple months that I hope to get around to here, so brace yourself for a flurry of posts today.

Touchstone Magazine is a source of many things interesting and good. The September 2007 issue has an article called Writers Cramped, Three Things Evangelical Authors Can Learn from Flannery O’Connor, which has popped up on a few blogs.

Why aren’t Christian writing great literature?

Christian writers are falling into the trap of simply dressing up and repeating their own beliefs, rather than using those beliefs to inform their exploration of the world and human behavior.

Which pointed to:

How literary are evangelicals?

As I glance at IVP’s list of authors, I see quite a diversity - Anglicans . . . Baptists . . . Methodists . . . Presbyterians . . . Anabaptists . . . megachurches . . . Of course, none of these are “literary” writers in the vein of a Flannery O’Connor. So why don’t contemporary evangelicals tend to produce literary works? Are we too concerned about efficacy of evangelistic message and clarity of doctrine to bother with the mysteries of art and literature?

And the article in Touchstone:

Writers Cramped

“Your beliefs will be the light by which you see, but they will not be what you see and they will not be a substitute for seeing.”

James Harleman, one of the pastors at Mars Hill Church in Seattle, gave a lecture on May 31 at MHC’s West Seattle campus, entitled ‘Christianity and Culture.’ Notes are here. Quite a bit to chew on and think about.

SF/F author Liz Moon on literary snobbishness:

What literary snobbism does hurt is the public–people who are taken in by the ignorant assertions of “experts” who don’t even read what they claim to despise (or read it so carelessly that they might as well be reading a cereal box.) It hurts the students who think their natural taste for plots that are plots and characters who are interesting is the literary equivalent of original sin and must be excised before they’re fit to be called educated.

http://thegaiusproject.org/

“Art for the sake of enjoying God, the Giver of art for our enjoyment.” Sounds good.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/artsentertainment/2003736418_survey06.html?syndication=rss

The questions I have: How much tax money was used to generate that amount? Could it have been better invested by the individuals than by the gov’t taking it from us and investing it in arts? Or would it not have been invested in the arts at all by the common man? If not, is using it for arts a good use of tax money or not?