The Conundrum Of The Christian Author

In writing science fiction and/or fantasy from a Christian perspective or world view, there's a built-in conundrum.

On the one hand, reading such work requires (on the part of readers) a suspension of reality: a willingness to abandon the frame of reference of their everyday lives and insert themselves into the fictional, imaginary, made-up world of the author. They are willing to make this mental shift of perspective in the hope of being entertained.

On the other hand, the author seeks to insert into his or her imaginary world a sense or perspective of faith that is the foundation of our perception of reality. As believers we choose to base our lives on the perceived reality of our religious beliefs. To us they aren't an imaginary construct (even though to non-believers it may seem that way) but a concrete foundation for all other elements of our lives.

Thus the conundrum. The reader is required to enter an imaginary reality; but the author wants the reader to understand the concrete reality of religious faith underpinning the imaginary world of which he or she writes. On the one hand belief inspires, informs and guides the author of the work; on the other, the reader suspends belief in order to participate in it.

I can already hear some objecting that the 'belief' suspended by the reader isn't religious belief, but the evidence of his or her senses, education and world view. However, isn't it precisely those things that give rise to our religious understanding? Can we expect to understand a fictional work's religious allegory when we've already suspended our expectations of reality in terms of its plot, characters and development?

The conflict of understanding that this conundrum can produce is perhaps most clearly illustrated by that greatest of fantastic Christian allegories, The Lord Of The Rings. Upon publication of the first volume a reviewer, Edwin Muir, wrote in the Observer that Tolkien:

" . . . describes a tremendous conflict between good and evil, on which hangs the future of life on earth. But his good people are consistently good, his evil figures immutably evil; and he has no room in his world for a Satan both evil and tragic."

Clearly Mr. Muir overlooked both Saruman and Gollum, the one dragged down from the pinnacle of good by evil, the other overwhelmed by evil but very nearly redeemed from its clutches - and perhaps, in the end, truly redeemed? We are left to speculate.

Another reviewer, J. W. Lambert, declared in the Sunday Times that the book had "no religious spirit of any kind". Today, however, any objective reader will affirm the solid underlying Christianity of The Lord Of The Rings - indeed, it's impossible to fully understand the book and the author's intention without this perspective.

This, in turn, highlights our quandary as authors. Are we to write in such a way that our faith is clear in our work, immediately perceptible to and accessible by our readers? If so, we risk alienating many who have no particular faith. On the other hand, if we write to attract the latter in the hope that they will 'get the message' and come to a deeper understanding of faith, we must necessarily conceal our true motives behind so many disguises, circumlocutions and artifices that we risk not only failure to convey the message of faith, but also alienating those who do believe and who seek evidence of our belief in our work.

I don't think there's an easy answer to this. I look forward to readers' comments in response to this post. Perhaps I should close by quoting the Master himself. Amused by the controversy over The Lord Of The Rings, Tolkien wrote:

The Lord Of The Rings
is one of those things:
if you like it, you do:
if you don't, then you boo!

Peter