{"id":10372,"date":"2024-11-17T04:47:59","date_gmt":"2024-11-17T04:47:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/farefwd.com\/?p=10372"},"modified":"2024-11-17T04:48:02","modified_gmt":"2024-11-17T04:48:02","slug":"god-in-the-hands-of-a-realist-writer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/farefwd.com\/index.php\/2024\/11\/17\/god-in-the-hands-of-a-realist-writer\/","title":{"rendered":"God in the Hands of a Realist Writer"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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God in the Hands of a Realist Writer<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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Modernism has reduced the \u201creal\u201d to the material, even in fiction. It\u2019s time we reclaim the full range of reality with our written words.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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By David Priest<\/em><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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I was about 250 pages into writing my first novel when I realized I\u2019d constructed a world without God. It wasn\u2019t intentional: I\u2019m a Christian and a professional writer\u2014a journalist, mostly\u2014trying my hand at longform fiction, and although I can draw on a couple of years studying in a fully funded MFA program, most of my education in creative writing came from reading books. Since I\u2019m most interested in writing a realist novel, I read the work of realist novelists\u2014ones as widely varied as Fredrik Backman, Kazuo Ishiguro, Sally Rooney, Colson Whitehead, John Le Carre, and Jennifer Egan.<\/p>

Yet in the throes of my attempt at the form, I realized that I was not imitating real life in my own writing, but the depictions of real life I\u2019d read. And the range of contemporary realism, it seems, has become too narrow to include much of anything spiritual\u2014perhaps because, by a sort of slow-moving consensus, the literary world has decided that \u201creal\u201d simply means \u201cmaterial\u201d and nothing more.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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And so we have the paradox of realism: it attempts to capture real life, and yet it does so through \u201cunreal\u201d means, through artifice.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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God and \u201cThe Real\u201d<\/strong><\/p>

Aesthetes have long defined the quality of art by its reflectiveness of nature, a notion made famous by Plato, and echoed through the ages by various writers. Camus: \u201cFiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.\u201d George Eliot: \u201cArt is the nearest thing to life.\u201d Keats: \u201cBeauty is truth, truth beauty,\u201d et cetera<\/em>.<\/p>

In the last century, various critics have questioned the very nature of fiction and its \u201creal\u201d-ness. Roland Barthes, for instance, argued in his \u201cIntroduction to the Structural Analysis of Narratives,\u201d that \u201c\u2018What takes place\u2019 in the narrative is, from the referential (reality) point of view literally nothing; \u2018what happens\u2019 is language alone.\u201d Critic James Wood rightly called this line of thinking incoherent: \u201cJust because artifice and convention are involved in a literary style does not mean that realism\u2026 is so artificial and conventional that it is incapable of referring to reality.\u201d<\/p>

And so we have the paradox of realism: it attempts to capture real life, and yet it does so through \u201cunreal\u201d means, through artifice. In many ways, this is the tension of all literature, of any search for truth or meaning using the implements of words.<\/p>

Many writers have sensed this tension, and in pursuit of consistency, like Barthes, have sacrificed coherence. The self-described materialist poet Don Paterson, for instance, roundly rejects meaning altogether: \u201cThe idea that material objects, processes or events can somehow possess immaterial truths is, I suspect, a candidate for mankind\u2019s greatest error\u2014and the reason we cannot free ourselves from the iniquitous and inequitable laws we believe ourselves ruled by\u201d\u2014a bizarre claim not only in its self-evident inconsistency (absent immaterial truth, by what do we judge laws \u201ciniquitous\u201d?), but also in its context within a tome that spends pages deriding modernist poets who abandoned the \u201cbeauty\u201d found in \u201cthe symmetry of form and organisation we find in the natural world.\u201d<\/p>

The explicit faith found in writers like Marilynne Robinson\u2014or even the reckoning with moral mystery and meaning by irreligious writers like Cormac McCarthy\u2014is the quickly vanishing exception to the rule of materialism.<\/p>

What an odd circumstance the aspiring author finds himself in, then, in which it seems he must pursue truth and beauty, as did Keats, but not as such. If he achieves meaning, I suppose, it must be only by accident.<\/p>

This so-called realism instructs readers, too. The result is a readership that no longer recognizes many undercurrents of story in eras past. Virtue and vice have been supplanted by trauma and pathology as the primary drivers of character behavior. Put another way, moral agency has been annulled in favor of behaviorism (which, to be certain, offers the author more easily articulated \u201cmotivations\u201d).<\/p>

Consider the recently released television show, The Rings of Power<\/em>\u2014a new story taking place in J.R.R. Tolkien\u2019s Middle Earth. While the individual narrative threads generally follow those in Tolkien\u2019s appendices, the show feels alien to the original written works: the protagonist, Galadriel, is driven primarily by the trauma of loss, as opposed to nearly all the heroes in Tolkien\u2019s writings, who are driven by honor of various sorts; Galadriel\u2019s brother advises her, early in the story, to \u201ctouch the darkness\u201d in order to distinguish it from the light\u2014a theme that emerges many times, despite being directly contrary to Tolkien\u2019s own preoccupation with the corruptibility of the human heart given even the briefest exposure to evil; and Gandalf (or the wizard most viewers will assume to be Gandalf), rendered child-like, ultimately becomes good by repeating to himself, \u201cI am good.\u201d<\/p>

It is a materialist impulse that says clearly distinguishable good and evil, virtue and vice, are less believable, less real, than trolls and elves. And it\u2019s an impulse I\u2019ve discovered in myself, the mimetic accumulation of more years than I care to count.<\/p>

James Wood argues for a broader definition of realism in light of its inherent paradox, a definition that might include \u201cKafka\u2019s Metamorphosis<\/em> and Hamsun\u2019s Hunger<\/em> and Beckett\u2019s Endgame<\/em>\u201d: \u201clife on the page, life brought to other life by the highest artistry.\u201d He calls this broader realism \u201clifeness.\u201d Wood, who is not a Christian, understands the value of broadening the thematic grammar of our stories for the sake of capturing yet-uncaptured elements of human life.<\/p>

In fact, he might have engaged with Christian authors, such as Marilynne Robinson, Flannery O\u2019Connor, Walker Percy, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and Fyodor Dostoevsky, to name a few, who similarly wrestled with realism. O\u2019Connor, for instance, wrote, \u201cIn the novelist\u2019s case, prophecy is a matter of seeing near things with their extension of meaning and thus of seeing far things close up. The prophet is a realist of distances.\u201d Dostoevsky said, \u201cI am only a realist in the higher sense; that is, I portray all the depths of the human soul.\u201d<\/p>

Such realism\u2014we may call it high realism<\/em>, per Dostoevsky\u2014throws off the constraints of materialism or low realism<\/em>. It makes space for the enterprising author to retool the conventions of fiction for the purpose of describing a wider range of contemporary life: life with moral meaning, life with truth and beauty, life with God.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Connection, and more specifically its linguistic apparatus, metaphor, is irresistible to humans.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Meaning and the Christian Author<\/strong><\/p>

For the Christian author\u2014aspiring or established\u2014plenty of implications of adopting high realism present themselves. Missing from most low realism of today are faithful Christian characters, serious discussion of the metaphysical ground (or lack thereof) underlying our assumptions about good and evil, depictions of purely self-giving behavior or cruelty that cannot be explained away.<\/p>

But let me make one of many possible applications, examining how practitioners of high realism and low realism might think differently about a particular literary device\u2014among the most important for the fiction writer: metaphor.<\/p>

Connection, and more specifically its linguistic apparatus, metaphor, is irresistible to humans. Some cultural anthropologists argue metaphor offers the organizing principle of all human thought\u2014that we can only understand anything by its likeness to other things. Indeed, the Bible makes extensive use of metaphor to reveal God\u2019s mystery to humans: He is a father, a mother hen, a rock, a potter, a vine, a gardener.<\/p>

Metaphor is a vital part of what makes literature what it is, yet there is something distinctly anti-materialist about the impulse to make of unrelated things a family. While we modern thinkers, brains bobbing along in our collective crania, tell ourselves the mark of acuity is the ability to parse, connections come to us unbidden. I recall walking with my then three-year-old son, pointing to objects and naming them: \u201cpath,\u201d \u201cgrass,\u201d \u201cwoodchips,\u201d \u201cswing.\u201d And when I lifted him and began to push him on the swing, he pointed up at the orange and yellow canopy tossed by wind overhead and shouted, \u201cfishies!\u201d<\/p>

Often it is these strange moments of connection, between leaves and fish, or anything else, that awaken in us some pleasurable discomfort, what Marilynne Robinson describes as \u201cthe feeling of an overplus of meaning in reality.\u201d<\/p>

For the high realist, metaphor uses this pleasurable discomfort to gesture toward mystery. I think here of plenty of authors, religious or not, whose words enlarge the reader\u2019s view of meaning. From Wallace Stevens: \u201cRemember how the crickets came\/Out of their mother grass, like little kin,\/In the pale nights, when your first imagery\/Found inklings of your bond to all that dust.\u201d Stevens strides confidently past the modest metaphor, with its single tenor and single vehicle, and opts instead for a whole language of metaphor, which gestures wildly beyond its frame. Who\u2019s to say what is or isn\u2019t bonded, who is or isn\u2019t kin?<\/p>

Was Stevens thinking of Adam, and his bond to the \u201cground\u201d\u2014in Hebrew, adama<\/em>? Adam, which we take to be a name and which simply means groundling, became the very word for mankind: \u201cSo God created adam<\/em> in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.\u201d<\/p>

Yet in this land of overwhelming complexity and wild connection, materialists and low realism offer metaphors to soothe rather than unsettle.<\/p>

Writer Ira Glass once spoke on his radio show, This American Life<\/em>, about his discomfort with the idea of God, a Being who demanded praise from His followers. This discomfort was generously assuaged by a retired Methodist pastor, during an hour-and-a-half-long car ride.<\/p>

The pastor, said Glass, explained \u201cGod to be all the values and principles that he sees in scripture\u2014the obligation to love each other, to be honest and decent in our dealings with each other, all of those things\u2026. In other words, the literal words of the Bible, the literal words of the prayers aren\u2019t as important as\u2026 [the] pledge to act a certain way in the world.\u201d<\/p>

Glass felt better after the conversation, because it is easy to abide a God who is different from us\u2014whose face shines like the sun and who holds the keys of death\u2014when he is not really there.<\/p>

Even Christians feel this impulse, partly driven, it seems to me, by the straw man of \u201cBiblical literalism\u201d so often levied by an increasingly materialist culture. I recently attended a Bible study on the book of Revelation, about John the Revelator\u2019s vision of the risen Christ, whose \u201ceyes were like blazing fire [and whose] feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace and [whose] voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword.\u201d<\/p>

At the end of reading all this, one exasperated attendant exclaimed, \u201cBut it\u2019s all just symbolic!\u201d In the materialist imagination (such as it is), concrete and abstract have amicably divorced: the material must abjure any symbolic potency, and the symbolic must deny any materiality. How much more palatable Christ appears within such a framework.<\/p>

For the low realist, metaphor becomes mere abstraction, making smaller our understanding of moral meaning. God is not love; love\u2014our love\u2014is god. This abstraction raises a question: What utility does \u201cgod\u201d as a concept offer, other than momentarily reviving emotions once associated with beliefs long abandoned? Or, to return to The Rings of Power<\/em>, what utility do \u201clight\u201d or \u201cdark\u201d hold as concepts when Tolkien\u2019s original conceptions of good and evil have been done away with? They are references without referents.<\/p>

The Christian God and moral absolutes disturb hollow metaphor. Christ, after all, is metaphor enfleshed, the divine become human. We are invited into that metaphor, asked to become one with Him, to assume His sonship, His perfection, to accept His inheritance. We embody this metaphor each time we take communion, the flesh and blood of our Savior.<\/p>

How else can we, aspiring high realists, share this literally real and symbolically potent Christ besides as He did\u2014with metaphor?<\/p>

This world in which we are rooted, from which we emerged, holds out to us the apparatus for apprehending the one true God, not as we might grasp a math equation, but as we might brush the fiery fur of a celosia in August bloom. Put another way, while low realists use metaphor as a gesture to the connectedness of things, high realists use metaphor as a gesture to all things\u2019 connectedness to God<\/em>.<\/p>

We Christians are faced with this question, then: whether to adopt the conventions of low realism, of materialism, or to forge new conventions alongside generations of Christian authors striving for a higher realism. This is especially pressing, since we write to a readership whose natural spiritual intuitions, whose impulses toward meaning, have been so neglected by materialist writers.<\/p>

For my part, I\u2019m significantly revising my novel. I\u2019ve decided I cannot believe in God with my heart and fail to confess him with my words, including those I write.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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David Priest<\/strong>\u2019s\u00a0award-winning\u00a0prose,\u00a0focused\u00a0on\u00a0nature, technology, and ethics,\u00a0has appeared in Religion & Ethics<\/em>, Outside Magazine<\/em>, Salon<\/em>,\u00a0The American Literary Review<\/em>,\u00a0and many other publications.\u00a0He lives with his wife and two sons in Louisville, KY.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Modernism has reduced the \u201creal\u201d to the material, even in fiction. It\u2019s time we reclaim the full range of reality with our written words. By David 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