The Worst List of All Time
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I found something disturbing recently while looking for ways to promote The Opposite of Art. It’s a list over at GoodReads, called “The Worst Books of All Time.” In the top (bottom?) 50 titles or so, I found books like: To Kill a Mockingbird, Billy Budd, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, The Red Badge of Courage, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Forest Gump, Fahrenheit 451, Dune, Stranger in a Strange Land, and The Pearl. As a novelist and as a Christian, that list saddens me.
While discussing it with some fellow novelists, one said many books by Christians are poorly written. She then felt the need to qualify her statement by affirming that she thinks there are lots of well-written novels by Christians. Probably she didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings, and that's laudable, but it seems to me she had it right the first time.
It’s true many novels by Christians are poorly written. That's also true of many other kinds of novels. In fact it’s true of most novels of every kind, but its not a particular indictment of mediocre writers or the readers who enable them. Most people don't really care about excellence in architecture, sculpture, painting, or dance . . . or government, commerce, marriage, or anything else in life that ought to matter.
What interests me, is why. In our discussion about the “Worst Books” list, some of my author friends speculated that so many people dislike those novels because they were forced to read them in school and disliked them then. But these books truly are works of genius—most of them are, anyway—so why didn't we love them in the first place?
The answer has to do with what it means to live in a fallen world. As creatures made in the Creator's image, we were designed to use our gifts to their utmost, and to savor excellence in our neighbor's use of their gifts. It's impossible to imagine the words "good enough" being spoken in the Garden before the Fall. But we did fall, and one of the things we lost was our ability to throw ourselves into living with complete abandon. "Good is the enemy of great," as Jim Collins wrote (paraphrasing Voltaire). Thus, in settling for good enough, we have rampant mediocrity in the world.
Another thing we abandoned in the Fall was our ability to perceive the true extent of what we've lost. So when expediency and ego dilute the full potential of even our best writers and artists, the audience, being also lost, doesn't know enough to care. Therefore they applaud what little they can get, and their applause rewards mediocrity. This in turn inspires the production of more mediocrity, and the cycle builds more and more support for itself until mediocrity seems normal, or even (God forbid) good, and because that lie has become pervasive, the truth is difficult for even Christians to remember. Thus we have rampant mediocrity even in the church.
The faithful Christian's life will always include a sense of resisting mediocrity at every turn. It's a command and a duty. "Whatever you do, do it will all your heart, as if for the Lord and not for men." (Col 3:23) It's no coincidence that this command includes the same requirement for wholeheartedness as the Greatest Command of all, to "love the Lord your God with all your heart...."
How can we love the Lord with all our heart? By living every part of life with all our heart. By not settling. By always striving to improve. In other words, as with all of His commands, the Creator simply wants us to live (write, marry, work, etc.) as we were originally created to live...with complete abandonment to what we truly are, which will reveal itself in the constant exercise of excellence in all our gifts.
Don't believe the lie of "good enough." You're so much better than that. Strive for excellence in everything you do, including what you write and what you read.
Live with all your heart.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 8:51 AM 5 comments
Labels: Other People's Novels, The Jesus Way, Writing
Commit Literature
Saturday, July 24, 2010
When I began writing my first novel in 1993, I made a decision that still guides my work today. I would not try to write “great literature.” I would instead content myself with a simple little story, but I would write it to the best of my ability, and work hard to improve my skills to assure that what I wrote, while no masterpiece, would at least reflect well upon my Maker. I believe the most important words a Christian can apply to any kind of work are these, which were written to slaves by a man in chains:
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as if working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” (Colossians 3:23-24) NIV
So I wrote slowly and painstakingly, carefully considering every word from many different standpoints. I sought out the opinions of intelligent acquaintances, and was never too proud to make constructive changes when suggested. Then, through a series of remarkable events (which I hope to write about one day in this column) to my very great surprise that first novel was published. But what surprised me even more was a comment made about that novel by an editor at a major newspaper. He said it “verged on committing literature.”
How strange it was to hear that word, when “literature” was the very thing I told myself I would not do.
Since those days Providence has seen fit to let me finish eight more novels, with six of those in print so far, and one memoir which may outlast them all. At the risk of seeming immodest, there have been several literary awards and many not uncomplimentary reviews, all of which when taken together have tended to imply that others see in me a puzzling habit of producing “literature.” This has caused me some confusion, for not once in all the years of writing—a million words or more—have I gone back on my original decision. Never have I consciously attempted literature.
Literature was for the academy. It was dense, impenetrable, lofty and apart. I simply wanted to tell unusual stories that might entertain readers, might enchant them through the characters and images brought to mind, and might perhaps leave them with a useful thought or two. How did that amount to literature?
For help in thinking through this question I looked to that ever-faithful writer’s servant, Webster’s. It turns out “literature” might not be the stuffy snob I once suspected. It is only “writings in prose or verse; especially: writings having excellence of form or expression and expressing ideas of permanent or universal interest.”
Well. That didn’t sound so bad. In fact, this was a fair description of what I expected to read in every novel worth my time. It’s what one should expect from any gifted novelist who does his best to write “with all his heart, as if working for the Lord.” Indeed, now that I think about it, this is what every novel in the Christian Fiction genre ought to be: “excellence of form or expression, and ideas of permanent or universal interest.” For what is the alternative? Mediocrity of form and expression? Unimportant and uninteresting ideas? As an inheritor of the greatest story ever told, what kind of Christian storyteller would I be if I was satisfied with that?
Since I am indeed a Christian truly serious about the faith, I have finally decided to accept this fact: whether I try to write a Transcendent Masterpiece or simply keep on trying to amuse, my underlying goal must be to “commit literature” as it is defined above. If that is not my goal, if I am satisfied with less, then I am not writing for the Lord with all my heart, and in that case I would do best to stop writing altogether and seek some other kind of work.
In exactly the same way, whether you are a home schooling mother, a scientist, an assembly line worker or a lawyer, if you are a Christian you are called to work with all your heart as if working for the Lord. No job is too mundane for that calling; no task is too trivial. Those words were first meant for slaves, remember, written to them by a man in prison. I cannot help being a writer; this gift was given without asking if I might prefer another. Similarly, a slave by definition cannot choose his work, but in following St. Paul’s admonition he can most certainly redeem it. Perhaps life has assigned you only ditches to be dug, but in the way you dig them you decide if you are making literature or pulp. Every task, from the most denigrated to the most celebrated, becomes a form of praise and worship if it’s done with all your heart as if for the Lord. That choice is always yours.
Praise the Lord with excellence in whatever work you do, and prepare to be surprised when others call it something more than you dreamed possible.
The original version of this post was was first published on July 15, 2010 at Novel Journey.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 7:28 AM 1 comments
Labels: The Jesus Way, Writing
On Beauty III
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Do you know what beauty is? For fifteen years now I've been trying to create it in my novels, and although the finished product never seems to measure up to what I had in mind, I think it's important to keep working toward it consciously and passionately. Not everyone agrees. In this post I wrote about the strange fact that many novelists rarely think of beauty as a goal in their work. In this one I discussed the reason why a Christian of all people ought to do exactly that, which brings me to the point: when you’re in hot pursuit of a thing, it’s important to understand exactly what that thing is.
So what is beauty, anyway?
It’s a difficult question to answer. Everyone has an opinion on how to define beauty, and our opinions vary widely. Like love or the taste of water, it seems beauty is the kind of thing one can’t quite explain. Webster’s defines it as “the quality attributed to whatever pleases or satisfies the senses or mind,” but notice this describes beauty in terms of its effect and not in terms of what it is. One simply knows beauty when one senses it, and as is often the case with intangibles, this means when we ask, “What is beauty?” it may be simpler to explain what beauty isn't. So I've compiled a little list of what beauty is not. Here goes:
"Beautiful” is not a synonym for “pretty.”
This fact is embedded in the language. While “beautiful” comes from the root noun “beauty,” there is no root noun for “pretty.” On the contrary, “pretty,” an adjective, is the root of “prettiness,” a noun. This means we can describe a thing as pretty, but pretty in itself is not a thing to be described. On the other hand, beauty requires no object. Beauty is a thing itself, and it is not necessarily pretty.
Nature offers countless examples of the difference. The perfect contours of a great white shark are easily an aesthetic match for any sculptor's masterpiece, and it moves with an effortless grace that any prima ballerina would envy. Surely “beauty” is not too strong a word to define such complete balance of form and function, but who would call that awesome predator “pretty”? Not all beautiful things are pretty, therefore the two are not the same.
Beauty is not relative to anything.
Certainly we are conditioned by our cultures to prefer one form of beauty over another in some cases. Many Japanese men think geishas are beautiful. With respect, I prefer less makeup. But that kind of disagreement exists only when we compare what we ourselves create. Everyone on earth agrees sunsets are beautiful. That fact means cultural distinctions are irrelevant when it comes to beauty found nature. Natural beauty—primal beauty—is an absolute which transcends nation, race, gender, religion, age, social mores and language. It is not relative to anything.
Beauty is not always comfortable.
Consider forest fires and lightning. Think of the summit of Mount Everest. Are they not beautiful in their own ways? Yet aren’t they also terrifying? Remember the great white shark again, or a black widow or a lion. Some beauty makes us so uncomfortable we feel the need to set ourselves apart from it. And our desire for distance from some kinds of beauty isn’t only due to danger. We were created to care for the garden. To work it. To organize it and arrange it. This explains the impulse many of us feel to make some kind of change in nature. We trim hedges. We separate flowerbeds from lawns. But what of those who take that impulse further? Who set fire to forests simply to destroy them, hunt for animals they do not eat, and fence off land they do not use? Beauty sometimes makes us sense our smallness. It reminds us we are not in control. It whispers “You are only mortal, and none of this is really yours.” Beauty is not always comfortable.
Beauty is not halfhearted.
Sometimes I fail to write beautiful words because of a momentary lack of enthusiasm, a distracted mind, or a prideful hidden agenda, but there is no pretension, no confusion, no uncertainty and no shortage of exuberance in anything of beauty found in nature. Every beautiful insentient thing from the smallest one-celled organism or slightest grain of sand to the greatest sequoia or the highest mountain is completely and sincerely what it is. Indeed, it is only when this is not true—when the purity of nature is polluted—that we call it ugly.
Similarly, no crow ever wished it was an eagle. No leopard ever wished it was a lion. Everything of beauty with a consciousness is absolutely determined to be completely what it is, everything that is, except sometimes for man.
Even man is the exception that proves the rule, for who could rightly call a man “beautiful” while he is pretentiously pretending to be something he is not? Such a man may still be lovable (it's best to love him anyway, for we are him from time to time) but it is not possible to think of him as beautiful. Beauty is not halfhearted.
Beauty is not slipshod or substandard.
As long as it lives, a mighty oak will always grow leaves in the spring. It never forgets. It never grows leaves partway, or poorly. It never makes the mistake of growing toads or daffodils, nor does it grow leaves on its roots or over in the next county. Mighty oaks are beautiful in part because they can be relied upon to do what oaks do perfectly, each and every time they do it. In the same way, doves are beautiful in part because they always sing their mournful song without missing a note. Ocean surf is beautiful in part because waves always come, one after the other, on and on with never one that fails to do its duty and surrender to the beach. All beauty in creation must fulfill the promise of itself completely. Beauty is not slipshod or substandard.
Undoubtedly there are many other things which beauty is not, but I have only time and space enough to mention one thing more:
Beauty does not exist for our entertainment.
Just as the Rocky Mountains were not raised up for snow skiing, and the Bible was not written to help readers avoid boredom, beauty may fascinate or even hold us spellbound, but that is not its purpose.
Entertainment can be pretty. It can be funny. It can be tragic. But if a moment comes when we suddenly realize a pretty painting, a funny movie, or a tragic novel has somehow become beautiful before our very eyes, we mean it has become something more than merely entertaining.
Entertainment is always inward focused. Its sole purpose is wrapped up in us, but beauty exists either with us or without us, and often, sadly, in spite of us. Think of the violent and profligate life of Caravaggio, or the egomaniacal Frank Lloyd Wright. Think of their beautiful paintings and architecture. The fact that base and selfish men can produce beauty proves that beauty is true, transcendent and sublime in and of itself, and not dependent on us whatsoever. Beauty is not about our entertainment.
But what does it mean to say beauty is true, transcendent and sublime? I could write a book to explain and add no further understanding to that statement. In the end, there's only one thing I can say in the affirmative about beauty without fear of contradiction:
Beauty is mysterious.
And it is because of this quality of mystery that beauty is most easily defined by looking elsewhere, at the negative. The loss of mystery becomes the loss of beauty.
Practically speaking, this means the best chance of finding beauty in one's work is to concentrate on avoiding all the things that it is not. To create a work of beauty, I cannot write merely pretty words, or comfortable words, or entertaining words. I cannot slavishly conform to culture. I cannot tolerate mediocre craftsmanship, and I cannot write halfheartedly.
Beauty is a mystery, so a novelist (or any kind of artist) in pursuit of beauty must never look for it directly. If we do that, we will find beauty has escaped us, much as soap bubbles pop when they are touched and flowers wilt when they are plucked. No one can define the mystery of beauty, but everybody knows it when they sense it. Indeed, beauty is a mystery so powerful it’s blinding. It’s like looking at the sun. I must gaze off to the side, to a place where beauty is not, if I hope to glimpse it as it is, for as the Source of all beauty once famously said, “You may see my glory, but no one may see my face and live.”
The original version of this essay was was first published on June 17, 2010 at Novel Journey.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 1:38 PM 5 comments
Labels: Beauty, The Jesus Way, Writing
On Beauty II
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It was a bad week. My last living aunt had passed away. Her name was Liz, and she was a hoot. If you’re old enough to remember Phyllis Diller or Carol Channing you’ll have a general idea of how much fun she was. I’ll miss her so. Then the next day I had lunch with a friend whose wife had just filed for divorce. My friend has a drinking problem, and his wife decided she couldn’t take it anymore. After lunch I spent time with another hurting friend whose only child was down to one last hope—an experimental therapy—to beat his cancer.
Meanwhile, I had to write 1,000 good words that day, and do it again the next day, and every other day until September if I was going to meet the deadline on my next novel.
The word count wasn’t the real problem. I’ve been at this writing game a long time. I’ve written amidst the distractions of airports, coffee shops and shopping malls. Even with all of this emotional turmoil I could probably still deliver 5,000 or even 10,000 readable words a day. But good words . . . aye, to quote the Bard, there’s the rub.
It’s tempting to lose focus and begin to wonder why I bother. In a world like this, excellence in the arts can seem like such a trivial pursuit. Indeed, never mind excellence, the reason art matters at all is sometimes questioned. With grief, loneliness, addiction, pain and fear all around us, what’s the point of literature? Why paint? Why sculpt? Why dance, or act, or sing? Why not devote oneself to something practical instead?
Near the end of the book of Job, after that unfortunate man has lost his children, his fortune and his health, after he has suffered the interminable counsel of well-meaning friends who insist he somehow brought disaster on himself, after he has come perilously close to blasphemy while demanding an accounting from his creator, after all of that, Job finally encounters God. Strangely, when God appears it is not with explanations. Job learns nothing of the reason for his suffering. He gets no answer to Rabbi Kushner’s famous question, ‘Why do bad things happen to good people?’ Even so, in the end Job is satisfied. God appears, and Job says, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” God appears, and his appearing is enough for Job.
.
My friend Brad, a professor at a well-known college of fine art, tells me it’s been fashionable for many years in the art community to question the existence of beauty. Not to question beauty’s definition or value, understand, but to question its very existence. One person finds Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d'Avignon lovely, while another person thinks it’s ugly. In the world of art theory this divergence of opinion has sometimes been taken to mean beauty is nothing but a social construct.
It is an old idea. It is the lament of Ecclesiastes. Everything is meaningless under the sun. Yet not everything, for Job saw God and that was enough.
Once I suffered from severe depression. Like Job I cursed the day of my birth. I was saved from the temptation of suicide by snowcapped mountains, golden birches, and the sparkling Milky Way. I was saved by reflections of God’s beauty.
I don’t mean to say God is beautiful. No mere adjective applies to him. St. John tells us “God is love.” God is beautiful in exactly the same way. Like love, beauty is God’s essence. Beauty does not describe God; it is the fact of God. It is his glory, his weight, the very thing the prophet Moses begged to see on Sinai.
The gospels tell a story of a woman who poured very expensive perfume on Jesus. His disciples were indignant. "Why this waste?" they asked. “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor."
And what was Jesus’ reply?
"Why are you bothering this woman?” he asked. “She has done a beautiful thing . . .”
Beauty exists because God exists. To reveal beauty is to reveal God. Therefore, if our art is beautiful, if we struggle to write good words instead of merely readable ones, then sometimes, just for an instant, God appears and God’s appearing is enough. In a world of grief, loneliness, addiction, pain and fear, no act of man could be more practical than that.
The original version of this essay was first published May 20, 2010 at Novel Journey
Posted byAthol Dickson at 6:54 AM 8 comments
Labels: Beauty, The Jesus Way, Writing
On Beauty I
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
It was an obvious mistake. Long ago during my life as an architect I designed a restaurant’s floor plan with the front doors swinging inward. If there had been a fire and a crowd rushed out, those who got to the doors first would have been unable to open them because of the press of people coming from behind. In the years since then as a full time novelist, I have spent a lot of time with other authors exploring the best practices of plotting, characterization, theme, setting, and craftsmanship. Strangely, I cannot recall a single conversation about beauty. This is remarkable omission for professional writers, easily as inexplicable as an experienced architect who draws a pair of entry doors that swing against the flow.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 2:10 PM 4 comments
Labels: Beauty, The Jesus Way, Writing
The More Things Change...
Friday, November 20, 2009
Things are changing fast in Book Land. Last month, the world’s largest Christian fiction publisher decided to convert one of its traditional imprints into a self-publishing division. This week, the world’s largest romance fiction publisher announced they have entered the self-publishing business, too. Never mind the troubling ethical questions and conflict of interest concerns that many have raised about established publishers choosing to blur the lines between traditional and self-publishing this way. That’s another blog. Today I’m interested in bigger trends.
Some people think we’re looking at a future filled with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people putting out their own novels. Given this new thrust toward self-publishing, and the ease with which a manuscript can be uploaded to the Internet as an e-Book, why not? Any author who has ever done a book signing will tell you that everybody seems to think they are a writer. Now they can prove it without having to jump through all the traditional hoops of getting an agent, attracting an acquisitions editor and satisfying a publication board. Write it and post it. It’s just that simple!
Some people also think the Internet has changed everything when it comes to production and purchase in the arts. We used to be macro-consumers. Now that it is so easy to get “published,” we’re going to become micro-consumers. No more blockbuster novels. Everybody will be reading something different because there are so many different things to read.
The Internet, they say, has changed everything, and we published novelists had better get ready for hard times because there is a wave of words coming that will overwhelm us.
I don’t believe it for a second.
Take Hollywood for example. At the end of the day, after Johnny uploads his latest YouTube video creation, I think he still sits down to stream a blockbuster Hollywood production on Netflix, right along with a million other people every day. No matter how many Youtube videos get uploaded, I don’t think that’s going to change the fact that the blockbuster Hollywood production is much more fun. And if Johnny does watch someone else’s Youtube video, on what does he base that decision? On the fact that a whole lot of other people have already watched the same video, of course. Take away the view counter and Youtube would die of lack of interest. We don’t have millions of people watching millions of different videos. We have millions watching a few videos. All the other millions of videos are seen by the people who make them, their friends, and family. Sort of like home movies.
In exactly the same way, Johnny might upload his novel to some file sharing site, but for his own reading he’s still going to choose a Steven King title over some unknown person who wants $1.50 for a download from Scribd.
I’m thinking about general trends here, and of course there will always be a few people who swim upstream, but while the Internet allows us to produce stuff at a micro-level, but that doesn’t mean the vast majority of us want to consume stuff on that level. This is due to basic human nature. Human beings have a heard mentality, and no technology will ever can change that.
There’s so much proof. Anyone could start a “news” service like Matt Drudge’s. All the man does is post links to other people’s news stories. Countless bloggers have tried to do the same, and it’s safe to say many of them post the same news links, or more interesting links, but Drudge still gets 28,000,000 hits a day while all those others get maybe 50 to 5,000. Why do millions of people go to Drudge every day? Because millions of people go to Drudge.
People have a herd mentality. We always have. We always will.
We see a line; we get in it, whether we know why or not. It just seems easier, somehow. How many times have you seen this at a ticket booth? A couple of lines, one long, one short, both for the same thing? And what is your first instinct? If you are like most people your first instinct is obviously to get in the long line, because that’s why it’s longer in the first place. It takes extra thought to get in that short line, and it takes a little courage, because a little voice warns us that the longer line must be better. After all, everybody’s in it.
Since we’re wired to take the well trodden path our marketplace will always be driven by that instinct, which means sales will always pile up in a few places rather than being thinly spread all over the place. How many search engines are there? How many people use Google, versus all those others combined? We’ve even turned “google” into a verb. We might enjoy the fantasy that someone’s out there reading our blog or looking at our video, but when it comes time for us to do some reading and looking, the Internet hasn’t changed our herd mentality. On the contrary, the Internet enables it.
What will probably happen as traditional publishing slowly dies as some predict, is a corresponding period when it’s every author for himself, with a proliferation of websites like Scribd where you can market your wares. Then one site will rise to dominance, a la Google, Drudge, Amazon, Craig’s List, Youtube, and etc.. That dominant e-publishing site will include a download counter for each title. And just as we see on Youtube, the titles with the most downloads will attract the most downloads. Tipping point will remain a fundamental marketing dynamic. Buying patterns will continue to exist just as the do today. A few authors will rise to the top, and all the others will sink to the bottom. At the end of the day, fiction authors will be in much the same place as we were ten years ago, with a small pool of the luckiest or the most talented professionals selling 95% of the novels, and a few million others wannabes splitting the other 5%. There will always be a need for professional editing. PR and marketing will still be necessary. The dominant e-publishing website will eventually change their business model and start taking a percentage of sales, of course. And being very poor negotiators, I suspect we authors will still be lucky to retain our usual 5% to 15%. In the end, unless human nature changes, life as an author will remain essentially the same in spite of everything.
Piracy, on the other hand, could ruin everything for everyone, authors and readers alike, but that too is another blog.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 10:41 AM 8 comments
Labels: Writing
Artful Conversation
Monday, November 9, 2009
Interviewing novelists is an art form. Most radio interviews I've done have been pretty disappointing, because the person asking the questions clearly didn't understand fiction, and didn't have a clue about how to take us into interesting territory without giving away too much of a novel's plot. But Victor and Alicia Gentile at Kingdom Highlights are masters at doing exactly that, and they truly understand the purpose and meaning of literature.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 9:40 AM 0 comments
Labels: Lost Mission, Other People's Novels, The Jesus Way, Winter Haven, Writing
The Trouble With Theme
Friday, November 6, 2009
“Right away, we divide into two camps,” I said, making two fists and putting one on the dinner table to my right, and the other on the table to my left. Lifting one fist I said, “Over here are authors who insist Christian novels have to kowtow to the most prudish people in the pews, and speak about the gospel so plainly it crosses the line into propaganda.” Lifting my other fist, I said, “But the authors over here think being authentic and relevant means we must show profanity and violence and sex realistically, and they’re willing to avoid all hint of Christianity rather than risk being seen as preachy.”
Nodding, my friend Regina zeroed right in on the problem. Pointing to one fist she said, “Too much truth.” Then she pointed to the other fist. “Too much grace.”
Regina knows her Bible. She knows you can never really have too much truth or too much grace. What she really meant was, not enough harmony.
People are like pendulums. We can’t seem to stop swinging from one extreme to the other. Sometimes this is good. Passion is important. But in addition to passion, all the finest things in God’s creation have a sense of harmony. It’s true in Regina’s world, where the best painters pay as much attention to the background, or “negative space,” as they do to the subject matter, or “positive space.” And it’s true in fiction, where the best writers devote attention to theme, style, setting, plot and characterization without giving any one of those fundamental elements too much emphasis, or too little. Everything works together, harmoniously.
When we swing so far in one direction that we ignore or oppose the other end of the spectrum, it’s a sure sign we are lazy. It’s easier out there on the ends. The gray areas in the middle require much more work. In those middle places we can’t thoughtlessly accept simple black and white ideas; we have to think about everything. This applies to writing, and it applies to Christianity itself.
It’s lazy writing to layer a theme onto a story superficially and it’s lazy to turn one’s back on theme for fear of overstatement. That’s why a good writer will wrestle with a theme, always aware of the dangers of going too far, and always aware it’s just as dangerous not to go far enough. Some wrestle with their theme up front; others let the theme develop as they write and then go back to wrestle with it later. Either way this is a lot of work, but it’s also the only way to write a novel that matters.
Similarly, it’s lazy writing to demand thoughtless compliance with rigid rules simply to avoid causing offense, and it’s just as lazy to break those same rules merely to appear relevant or authentic to the outside world. A good Christian novelist will offend even fellow Christians if there’s no better way to make a point that should be made. A good Christian novelist will also do the extra work it takes to write about the fallen world without contributing to the fall. Jesus ate with prostitutes and “sinners” but not once did he emulate them.
A long time ago I was advised by a Jewish agent and an unbelieving editor to add a stronger spiritual subtext to a plot, only to be told later by a Christian author that the novel was too preachy. More recently, another Christian author assured me that my upcoming allegorical novel about God’s love is a waste of time, because only people who already know God will understand the symbolism. (I could not help remembering that God is not mentioned in the book of Ester, nor does that book contain any commentary on the actions of the characters. Apparently God trusts readers, even if we don’t.)
These experiences are fairly typical of what I’ve found in several organizations where Christian authors discuss writing. We often talk about how to create sympathetic characters, or how to write a page-turner of a plot, but amazingly enough, we almost never discuss how to communicate a theme. When it comes up we tend to flee to separate corners, with those on one side saying, “You abandon the gospel!” and those on the other side saying, “You write sermons, not novels!” The finger pointing is easier than doing the work it takes to speak to readers deep down, between the lines. Although we are all in the business of writing about Christian ideas one way or another, theme is a touchy subject.
Oh, the irony!
Whether the genre is romance, speculative fiction, mystery/suspense, general fiction or chick lit, writing about Jesus means letting go of safe assumptions and easy shortcuts. It also means approaching every novel as if it’s the first one we ever wrote in order to encounter our stories in a middle place where life is gray and complicated, because that’s where true harmony is found. This is only natural, since that harmonious yet complicated place is also where Jesus lives. The apostle John tells us Jesus came “full of grace and truth.” Jesus never compromised on one for the sake of the other, and He calls us to live our lives the same way. Imagine the power and the glory if our novels did that, too.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 5:53 PM 7 comments
Labels: The Jesus Way, Writing
American Idol for Writers!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Want to have some fun? Enjoy American Idol? Enjoy speculative fiction? In that case, you're in luck! My friend Jeff Gerke sent me a copy of the following press release this morning. I think it's a great idea. Check it out:
"Marcher Lord Select is American Idol meets book acquisitions," says publisher Jeff Gerke. "We're presenting upwards of 40 completed manuscripts and letting 'the people' decide which one should be published."
The contest will proceed in phases, Gerke explains, in each subsequent round of which the voters will receive larger glimpses of the competing manuscripts.
The first phase will consist of no more than the book's title, genre, length, a 20-word premise, and a 100-word back cover copy teaser blurb. Voters will cut the entries from 40 to 20 based on these items alone.
"We want to show authors that getting published involves more than simply writing a great novel," Gerke says. "There are marketing skills to be developed--and you've got to hook the reader with a good premise."
Following rounds will provide voters with a 1-page synopsis, the first 500 words of the book, the first 30 pages of the book, and, in the final round, the first 60 pages of the book.
The manuscript receiving the most votes in the final round will be published by Marcher Lord Press in its Spring 2010 release list.
No portion of any contestant's mss. will be posted online, as MLP works to preserve the non-publication status of all contestants and entries.
Participating entrants have been contacted personally by Marcher Lord Press and are included in Marcher Lord Select by invitation only.
"We're also running a secondary contest," Gerke says. "The 'premise contest' is for those authors who have completed a Christian speculative fiction manuscript that fits within MLP guidelines and who have submitted their proposals to me through the Marcher Lord Press acquisitions portal before October 29, 2009."
The premise contest will allow voters to select the books that sound the best based on a 20-word premise, a 100-word back cover copy teaser blurb, and (possibly) the first 500 words of the book.
The premise contest entrants receiving the top three vote totals will receive priority acquisitions reading by MLP publisher Jeff Gerke.
"It's a way for virtually everyone to play, even those folks who didn't receive an invitation to compete in the primary Marcher Lord Select contest."
The premise contest is open to anyone with a completed Christian speculative fiction manuscript that meets MLP guidelines for length, content, genre, worldview, audience, etc. To enter, authors must complete the acquisitions form found at the Marcher Lord Press site and supply all the components listed below on or before October 29, 2009.
Marcher Lord Select officially begins on November 1, 2009, and runs until completion in January or February 2010. All voting and discussions and Marcher Lord Select activities will take place at The Anomaly forums in the Marcher Lord Select subforum. Free registration is required.
"In order for this to work as we're envisioning," Gerke says, "we need lots and lots of voters. So even if you're not a fan of Christian science fiction or fantasy, I'm sure you love letting your voice be heard about what constitutes good Christian fiction. So come on out and join the fun!"
Marcher Lord Press is a Colorado Springs-based independent publisher producing Christian speculative fiction exclusively. MLP was launched in fall of 2008 and is privately owned. Contact: Jeff Gerke; http://www.marcherlordpress.com/.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 2:29 PM 1 comments
Labels: Other People's Novels, Writing
Other People's Blogs
Friday, October 16, 2009
Posted byAthol Dickson at 7:32 AM 0 comments
Labels: Lost Mission, Writing
If Necessary Use Words
Saturday, August 1, 2009
“Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” While this famous quote of St. Francis of Assisi was intended to guide us in our daily living, it is also marvelous advice for Christian novelists. Many of us have been guilty of using words to preach unnecessarily in our novels through the years. Much has been written in lamentation of this fact, going back at least as far as 1969 and the collected essays of Flannery O’Connor in Mystery and Manners. By now every Christian author knows, or ought to know, the danger of a heavy-handed theme, so on that point we need no further criticism. On the contrary, what we need today, it seems to me, is a reminder that Christian themes remain essential even if they have been seriously abused. Also, it would be helpful to consider a few constructive ideas on how best to achieve a proper balance.
“The storyteller must render what he sees and not what he thinks he ought to see, but this doesn't mean that he can't be, or that he isn't, a moralist in the sense proper to him." ("The Teaching of Literature," Mystery and Manners).
True to human nature, having once identified the problem of overstated themes (often bemoaned as “agendas” or “propaganda”), many Christian literary critics and authors immediately made the mistake of fleeing all the way to the other end of the spectrum. They now advocate a level of restraint that would render theme completely invisible to all but the most psychically gifted of readers. This is nothing but another form of excess, and it is equally lethal to good literature.
As with almost everything, moderation is the key to success. The Christian novelist must not allow the pendulum to swing from overstatement past subtlety into nonexistence, because it is impossible to write a great (or even a good) novel without giving careful consideration to a story’s underlying and unifying meaning. The trick is to do that in proper proportion to all of the other fundamental components of good storytelling. After all, a heavy-handed theme is not the only way to ruin a novel. One can also write a story that is too narrowly focused on the plot, characters, setting or style. On the other hand, imagine the disastrous result if an author decided to abandon one of these aspects of fiction, or reduce it to such obscurity as to be indiscernible. Successful novels always include them all in proper balance. This does not mean they must always be present in the same proportions, of course. Some novels are most notable because they makes us feel we know the characters as well as we know ourselves, while others intrigue us most because of their fascinating plots, and still others are best loved because they transport us to a lovely time and place or amuse us with the author’s clever turn of phrase, but in every case the successful novel will not allow any one component to rise or fall too far in relation to any of the others, and that includes the theme.
With so much debate about the proper level of thematic influence on a story, the writer’s first task in this area is to find a way to judge whether she has gone too far, or not far enough. For that the standard is very simple, really. We know a proper thematic balance has been achieved if readers tell us they did not rise up from the story to think about the theme while they were actually reading the novel, but they did feel compelled to think about it when the book was put away.
Unfortunately, in literature there is a long time between the writer’s act of creation and the reader’s experience (unlike other fine arts such as music, dance or drama) so it is very difficult to use the reader’s experience as a feedback loop to help us keep theme in proper proportion while we write. How can a writer know if she is maintaining a proper thematic balance as she goes? I have three suggestions.
First, the author must gauge it through honest self-examination. Is the writer predisposed to overstate her underlying point? Then let her pay particular attention to subtlety, even if she has the constant feeling that she might not be expressing the moral of her story quite plainly enough. Is the writer prone to understatement? Then let him write with the constant feeling he has gone a bit too far. By pushing past our personal preferences this way, we have a better chance of finding equilibrium.
Second, it is helpful to distribute copies of early drafts to several trusted readers—I suggest five or more, if possible—asking them to note their thoughts and feelings in the margins as they go. In that way one can connect the reader’s responses directly with the passages in question. The readers chosen should be experienced in reading fiction, should appreciate the multiple levels of communication in fiction, should understand the role of theme in fiction, and should understand that unmerciful honesty is required for this kind of feedback to be helpful. The author is the final arbitrator of balance in the novel, of course, but if the majority of one’s advance readers find a particular passage overly didactic, or perhaps even simply “slow”, it is usually worth cutting.
Third, we can achieve thematic moderation with the assistance of a skilled editor. Before a developmental or a line editor goes to work on a manuscript, the writer and editor should discuss the story’s thematic goals thoroughly. This will better equip the editor to determine if those goals are being met. It will also give the writer a better comfort level with the editor’s thinking in this area. (If the writer is uncomfortable with the editor’s grasp of the thematic goals of the story, it may be worth the awkwardness involved to ask the publisher for another editor.) Once the writer and editor have reached an understanding in this way, the writer should trust the editor’s instincts. With the possible exception of style, theme is the most subjective of the fundamental components of fiction. This makes it extremely difficult for the writer to assess dispassionately, which is why it is essential to trust one’s editor in the matter.
Hopefully we have now moved past the question of whether Christian fiction ought to deal with theme and are now solidly into the question of how best to deal with themes in a well balanced way. We have reviewed three ways to gauge that as the story moves through the creative process, but how do we go about communicating theme in the first place?
The writer has many thematic tools at his disposal. They include the various forms of symbolism, use of the grotesque, contrast, repetition or refrain, and the careful selection of words to establish mood. Probably there are others, but these are the ones I know best, and I believe mastery of them is more than enough to accomplish the goal. I hope to discuss each of these techniques in future posts. I also have a few thoughts to share on the interaction of theme with style, setting, plot and character. Look for posts on these topics in weeks to come.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 12:56 PM 15 comments
Labels: Writing
A Garden of Words
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A writer friend and I have been discussing the role of theme in novels. He seems to believe an author ought not deliberately set out to convey a Christian truth between the words, for fear of spoiling the integrity of the story. We have some more talking to do before I can be sure, but I think he's really saying it's important not to be "preachy," which is of course, quite true. But in the course of our conversation, he mentioned his son-in-law, a gardener, and said he writes stories the way his son-in-law gardens, as a Christian for sure, but without "a motivation of changing lives." That got me thinking.
How is a writing a novel like planting a garden?
In a gardener's world, integrity and attention to excellence means one doesn't go about planting just anything haphazardly, simply because it's pleasing to the eye at first. Some plants thrive in shade; some don't. Some require good drainage; some like wet roots. Such things must be given as much consideration as aesthetics, or else the end result is less than excellent, regardless of whether it pleases the eye at first, because the plants will quickly die. This is similar to plotting a novel.
Excellent gardeners also consider the interrelationships of shape, height, color and so forth of a plant to the others before deciding where to place it. One doesn't place taller, bushier plants in front of low flowers, for example, or else the flowers are not seen. One puts plants where they do their best work, be it as a centerpiece, or in a supporting role. This is similar to characterization.
But the very best gardens, the ones that are so excellent as to be inherited by future generations of gardeners who carefully and lovingly attend to them in order to keep their beauty alive, are also planted with a sense of something more. As we stroll through them we feel we have been somewhere like this before; we are certain these plants and fountains and winding paths are telling us something true about another world; they instill a longing for something beyond words, a subconscious belief that things could be glorious again if only we could understand this feeling beyond words. In short, they remind us of something wonderful that we have long forgotten. If you've ever been in a world-class garden, you'll know exactly what I mean. And this is tantamount to theme.
It's possible to plant a perfectly acceptable garden without this third design element, of course. In fact, most gardens don't have it. They have the same pretty flowers and shade trees and so forth, but that indefinable quality is missing. People still enjoy them while they're there, but once they are beyond the garden's boundaries the pleasure they felt is quite forgotten. I want to take my readers deeper, to leave them something when they close the book. I want to try to capture the magical quality of a world-class garden, a sense of God's limitless love, an ache within the reader, a feeling that this love one senses is true, and could be restored if one only knew which path to take to reach it.
My friend calls this propaganda. If that is true, it's not the usual "do as you're told" kind. I'm looking to awaken truths that are already there in the reader's heart, not plant a new idea or further an agenda. In a small way with every novel that I write I want to take readers back to primal memories they already have, back to a certain garden as it was before the fall.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 6:46 AM 14 comments
Labels: Writing
In Mexico
Monday, December 3, 2007
Research for a novel is always interesting, but that word doesn’t come close to describing my experiences over the last week. While working on background for a story I’m calling Lost Mission, I traveled to the state of Guanajuato, Mexico. There I stayed in the town of San Miguel de Allende (pictured here) and made side trips to nearby villages and cities. In the midst of our nation’s concerns about illegal immigration, more U. S. citizens should travel beyond the usual beach towns and visit Mexico’s interior to learn about the history and culture of our beautiful neighbor to the south. A little less fear and a lot more friendship would go a long way to finding solutions everyone can prosper from, in my opinion. But I won’t get political here, not when there are so many more interesting things to say.
The town where I stayed most of the time, San Miguel de Allende, was renamed in the early 1800’s, retaining the name of the priest who first settled there (Fray San Miguel) but adding the village’s favorite son and one of Mexico’s founding fathers of the Mexican War of Independence (Ignacio Allende). “San Miguel” as the locals call it, is incredibly photogenic. This blog includes a few shots I took there, but go to this link and scroll down to the “Galeria Fotos” 
near the bottom to click for more lovely visions. Believe me, the images you will see there (and here) are unretouched. Even with nothing but a disposable camera, anyone can take of perfect photograph in that glorious place!
The sense of history in the state of Guanajuato is everywhere. I was honored to visit the little town of Dolores Hidalgo where Father Miguel Hidalgo gave his famous El Grito de Dolores (The Cry of Dolores) speech to rally the people and begin the struggle for independence from Spain. Looking at those famous church steps, I had the same sensation of awe I have experienced at the Alamo and at Independence Hall in Philadelphia. Hidalgo, along with Allende and two other leaders of Mexico’s war for independence, were captured and executed for the cause of freedom, a price every signer of our own Declaration of Independence knew he might be called to pay. (Learn more about Allende and Hidalgo here.)
I also visited the Valencia Hacienda (now a restaurant) in Guanajuato, where the Valencia family lived across the street from their own private cathedral (see photo at left). That’s right: they had their own personal cathedral! The Valencias were among the richest people on the planet at that time, in direct control of 25 to 30 percent of the silver produced in Nueva Espanola, or “New Spain”. When you consider that New Spain accounted for about two thirds of all the silver mined on earth, the Valencia’s wealth defies imagination, easily reaching the level of Bill Gates and Warren Buffet today.
Guanajuato itself has a lovely European ambiance, with pedestrians wandering cobblestone streets lined by limestone and stucco facades, and drivers navigating a strange underground road system created by the miners who originally gave the city its wealth. 48 kilometers of tunnels under the city left the downtown area free of the noise and exhaust 
that plagues so many other towns. Diego Rivera was born there (on the right is a photo of The Lovely Sue and Yours Truly in front of Rivera’s boyhood house), and a major university is right downtown, which may explain the sense of creativity and energy I felt throughout the city.
The strong connection between my country and Mexico reveals itself in the strangest details. For example, did you know the Mexican Revolution was initially led by Francisco Madero, who studied at the University of California, Berkley? In San Miguel I attended a world class jazz concert along with an elegant crowd of well heeled people from all around the world. This, in a theater marred by bullet holes in its limestone façade, evidence of the firing squads that operated with ruthless efficiency there during Mexico’s revolution early in the last century. What a surreal contrast between that grim reminder of Mexico’s bloody history outside, and the sublime gypsy-swing music of the Hot Club of San Francisco on stage inside! I also had a chance to see Doc Severinsen play with Gil Gutierrez and Pedro Cartas (the classical guitarist and violinist duo known as “Gil and Cartas”). These three guys were awesome together, with beautifully arranged music spanning from straightforward jazz, to moments of classical Spanish guitar, to Django 
Reinhardt type “gypsy jazz.” I’m listening to one of their CD’s as I type these words, and if you can get a copy, you should listen, too.
All of this in only one week, and believe me, this description barely scratches the surface of the sights, sounds, and people I encountered. Mexico. What a beautiful, amazing, and fascinating country it is! I went south unsure of the final direction I should take with Lost Mission, and came home overflowing with grand ideas and creative energy. Now at last after months of preparation it’s time to do what writers do and . . . write!
Posted byAthol Dickson at 10:04 AM 7 comments
Labels: About Athol, Lost Mission, Writing
Interview on Writing
Friday, November 16, 2007
Jon Brisbin was kind enough to ask me to discuss writing and a few related topics over at his blog. I hope you'll check it out. If you want to talk about some aspect of our conversation further, drop me a comment here and I'll do my best to keep my end up. And if you appreciate Jon's interview skills as much as I do, be sure to let him know. He asked some outstanding questions!
Posted byAthol Dickson at 4:00 PM 3 comments
Labels: Writing
Weaving In Jesus
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Blame this on Mark Bertrand. I try not to spend too much time writing about writing in these posts, because I hope people of all walks of life will be interested in the site. Also, I was going to spend the afternoon working on a novel. But then I read Mark's post on the state of Christian fiction today in which he linked to an interview I did, and I had to comment. One thing led to another, and the comment grew too long to post on Mark's site (it is his site, after all) so here it is instead. If you are a Christian writer or artist, what follows may be of particular interest. But even if that's not your line of work, it shouldn't take much imagination to apply some of these thoughts to your corner of Christian life.
So whether you're a writer or an artist or not, you might want to go read what Mark wrote, and perhaps the comments of his readers there, then come back to consider this:
All five of the points in Mark's blog strike me as important, and well made. I had not thought about the issue raised in number five, but it does ring true. Even the Christian authors I know often hesitate to admit a preference of one author over another for fear of causing offense. This is probably a function of good Christian charity to some extent, and to that extent it should be valued, although Mark's right to imply it sometimes gets in the way of constructive criticism. As the genre continues to mature, I suspect it will sort itself out.
It seems to me the elephant in the room is what a Christian novelist ought to do about Jesus, whether the author is published by a Christian or a secular house. And as Christian authors, we have to rigidly separate two concerns when it comes to “steering” stories toward our worldview. First there is the question of whether we should steer stories toward Him at all, and if so, then we have the question of how it should be done.
Regarding the first question, all great music, dance, painting, sculpture, poetry, motion pictures and novels communicate something fundamental yet ineffable about life as the author understands it. Some artists do that more transparently than others, but once the basics of craftsmanship have been learned, the communication of ineffable truth is precisely what separates great and timeless art from the merely entertaining or the decorative. Since life is short and every artist will produce a limited number of works in his career, it seems to me self-evident that the truth communicated should be the most important one the artist knows. If the artist is a Christian, yet he does not speak the truth of Christ somehow, he is like a doctor who has discovered the cure for cancer yet chosen to limit himself to cosmetic surgery. I will never understand how any Christian artist could paint or sculpt or dance or compose or film or write with anything but the gracious love of Jesus Christ as his underlying theme.
So, it seems to me the next question applies: not if a Christian author ought to point his readers toward the gospel, but rather, how?
Regarding this I think we should first of all remember Paul’s words: “The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor.” This means one novel might prepare the human heart to receive the gospel, and another might explain it. Some people (glossing too much onto the oft-quoted Mystery and Manners, I think) seem to believe a novel should serve only the former purpose, and it is somehow bad art to attempt the latter. This is nonsense. Consider The Last Supper. Consider the Sistine Chapel. It may require an artist who is a consummate master of his form to get an unbeliever to accept it, but the gospel can and should be spoken via every kind of art, including novels.
Also, Mark makes an excellent point on this score when he writes, “We have unique visions and we seek to implement them in various ways.” While God is one, every Christian knows Jesus in a unique way. It makes sense that every Christian author will write about Jesus uniquely. Some will bury Him deep; others will place him front and center. Who are we to say one approach is superior to the other, so long as good craftsmanship is there? It’s certainly naïve (or perhaps supercilious) to suggest a Christian novel is inferior to the secular variety because the underlying Christian message is not altogether underlying. Consider Robert B. Parker for example, whose serial protagonists, Spencer and Stone, almost never fail to moralize on feminism or on psychiatry, which Parker sometimes seems to treat like a religion. I disagree with Parker on both subjects, yet like millions of others, I thoroughly enjoy his work and read it anyway. If Parker (and dozens of other ABA authors I could mention) can get away with overt presentations of their belief systems, why can’t a Christian who is writing at the same level of skill do the same? I believe the Bible, so I believe the answer is, because “the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.” Yet Paul often preached the gospel plainly, and so should any novelist who feels the call to do so.
None of this should be interpreted to mean Christian novelists are exempt from good craftsmanship. Christians of all people must attend to quality, because slip-shod work reflects directly on Jesus’ reputation among unbelievers. As with any theme in any novel, if the gospel is there it must be essential to the story, woven in from the outset as the very heart of the thing. This is the true message of Mystery and Manners, and it is not a Christian fiction issue in particular. It is Creative Writing 101.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 4:50 PM 6 comments
Labels: Writing
Saints and Poets
Thursday, August 23, 2007
I'm swamped. And I'm sorry I did not post the next segment in our study of Matthew's gospel last week. I may not be able to do it this week, either. A deadline is fast approaching on Winter Haven, my next novel, and I've found it difficult to think of anything else. (You can read a teaser on the story and see the beautiful cover my publisher created here, and read a quote and see an illustration of the story here.) But I must make time to tell you about two wonderful things that crossed my path this week.
Incredible as it seems, almost from the moment she began her ministry to the poor in India, Teresa lost touch with Jesus emotionally, and she never felt His love again. Yet she persevered, she did agape love to her neighbors in most amazing, miraculous ways as we all know, and in her letters to her closest friends and confessors, over and over again she reaffirmed her love for Christ, even as she wrote with the same ink of her abiding sense that God had left her utterly alone. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see,” (Hebrews 11:1) but for Teresa, faith was also an unshakable belief in what she did not even feel. What a holy woman she truly was.
You may want to read this summary of a new book about her spiritual trials. It brought me to tears of awe at this sister’s monumental faith, which was far weaker, and thus far stronger, than we ever knew.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 8:15 AM 2 comments
Labels: The Jesus Way, Writing
On Writing - INFUZE Interview
Monday, July 30, 2007
Are you interested . . . in the creative writing process, or in the state of Christian fiction past and present? If so, you might want to surf over to Infuze magazine, where Senior Editor Matt Connor interviewed me recently. Today they posted the conversation. You can read it here. I hope you find it thought provoking, and would love to read your own comments about any of the issues Matt and I discussed.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 7:41 AM 1 comments
Labels: About Athol, Writing
Profiles, Novels and Film
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Publisher’s Weekly interviewed me recently for a profile piece. You can read the online version here. My friend Angie Hunt and Tracey Bateman are also profiled. In fact, this edition contains an entire section on Christian fiction, and for those who enjoy novels with Christian themes it’s worth examining. For example, you can find out about five brand new novelists, and there’s a very informative article on the surge in Christian films since Mel Gibson’s phenomenal success with The Passion. Looks like we can expect quite a few more film adaptations of Christion themed novels in the near future. I just hope the quality is there, having seen some poor reviews of a few recent offerings, which apparently did not rise to the level of the novels.
Speaking of motion pictures, let me recommend two fairly low budget films, both of which have recently hit the shelves at my local video store:
First, there’s Copying Beethoven. Ed Harris does a remarkable job in this picture. It might be the best work he’s done, and he’s a fine actor so that’s really saying something. I think he should have gotten as Oscar. And the script . . . oh, my. There’s a scene where Beethoven describes music as God’s voice, and musicians as those who take down His dictation. As a writer, I loved that perspective on art.
Beethoven describes his relationship with God, saying they were two grouchy bears in a den too small for both. How many of us feel that way sometimes? I certainly do.
And there’s a fabulous scene near the end when Beethoven lies on his death bed and dictates a fugue to his assistant, beginning in strictly musical terms and ending with a lyrical description of entering heaven . . . it’s just pure magic on several levels. I don’t know anything about Rivele or Wilkinson (the screenwriters) but someone behind this picture knows the Lord. (For those who might be uncomfortable with such things, there is one scene in Copying Beethoven where a bottom is briefly exposed, but it’s certainly not gratuitous.)
Then, there’s Ten Items or Less. While it doesn’t touch on humanity’s relationship to God as overtly as Copying Beethoven, it may do a better job with that whole “love you neighbor as yourself” thing. Ten Items or Less stars Morgan Freeman as you’ve never seen him before: light hearted and playful. The female lead is Paz Vega, who is also very good, and it was written and directed by Brad Silberling, who has a long TV directing career but only one other picture to his credit, that Lemony Snicket thing. It’s about an actor with a career on the skids who meets a clerk in a Latino grocery while checking out a location for a film. The clerk and the actor are from totally different worlds, but they end up spending the whole day together, and because of the chemistry between them (not romantic, just a connection, you know?) they inspire each other to step up and do something about their lives. That’s it; the entire plot. But the acting! The dialogue! Wow. I was alone when I watched it. I gave it a round of applause anyway.
Do yourself a favor. Read the PW online articles and rent these pictures.
Posted byAthol Dickson at 10:49 AM 4 comments
Labels: Writing
