Monday, August 20, 2007

On fiction, especially children's stories

I never really grew out of stories, and children's literature to this day remains the genra closest to my heart. With the agreement of others older, wiser, and even more familiar with the gospel than myself I discovered it wasn't necessarily a part of growing up to leave behind stories. So with a strong admiration of the Lewis's Queen Lucy I decided not to get so caught up in the here and now as to forget the Narnia in the back of the wardrobe even though I personally failed in all my literal attempts to find that place in the here and now, even on the rainiest of days. I'm glad for that because in some ways I like the kind of stories we write for children more now than I ever did as a child.
At some point in time (or more likely over time from my early teens until now) I worked out more abstract ideas of what stories are and should be in order to have a basis for deciding what makes up a good story. I was heavily influenced by Lewis and Tolkien particularly among others including others who were also influenced by the same. When questions concerning what is or isn't appropriate for a fictional world (which, as I was a young teen at the release of the first Harry Potter, were being discussed in full color about the time I wondered them myself) I discovered the way in which fiction has the opportunity to be a vehical for truth that nothing else can offer. By making a world in which physical or exact truths were infinitely different than the world we live in day to day something deeper could be seen--not so as much in exact words as in themes and impressions--as more true. The truth that Cinderella couldn't actually have a fairy godmother was less important than the truth that there was something at work beyond herself and her circumstances that changed her from an unloved orphan to the wife of the prince. The truth that hobbits never once lived along side men and elves and saved the world from evil is less important than the truth that the very insignificant in our terms can be used by a greater power to do what the very strong had not been placed to do. The truth that the physical laws of here and now do not allow for people to do magic with wands or fly on broomsticks is not as important as the truth that there is, despite all odds, a greater power that causes weakness, imperfection, community, love, and selfless sacrifice to overpower evil even when it seems to have all the known power of earth. Stories reprioritize our thoughts toward understanding that the immediate world is not the ultimate truth. After the mindset of Hebrews 11 we are, in fact, rather alien to the here and now and are looking for a better country. Stories show us how to long for the country that is our real home.