This may be my year of time travel. Maybe it's a little preposterous to have characters travel in time in a fairy tale, but while coming up with the plot for The Map across Time, I couldn't resist. I've always loved the odd theories about time travel and loved books like Jack Finney's Time and Again, and movies like Back to the Future. If fairy tales could include magic and wizards and spells and flying carpets, why not a magical map that could move one through time?
I came up with the idea for book three in The Gates of Heaven series while on a wonderful trek around England with my husband in the harsh month of January. We spent a few days in Bath and slept at the youth hostel up on a hill above town. Bath is one of my favorite cities, and as I sat upon our tiny twin bed in a room that barely allowed us to move around, I thumbed through a book my husband had brought along. In it the author spoke of needing a map for our lives that could lead us through the twists and turns and give us direction in the midst of chaos. I immediately thought about how you could portray a map that could move through time instead of space. How would that work? I thought about the old movie The Time Machine and recalled the funny sequence of scenery that met the time traveler's eyes as he sat in the machine and watched the store window dressing change in fast motion as he moved backward through the years. Eventually he sped up, and found himself going through the geological changes of the region as well. At one point he became buried under the earth but thankfully landed back in that jolly old time where people were being sacrificed to some god. I guess no matter where (or when) your journeys lead you, there's always some bum thing that makes you want to go home.
Another thing that influenced my concept of having my characters move through time was Roger Zelazny's Chronicles of Amber series. What a crazy bunch of books! If you haven't read them, you might find them puzzling and wacky. But the story is terrific. Amber is the true land, and all other (many) worlds are only shadows. The nine princes in Amber have the ability to travel from these shadow worlds to the real Amber, but they have to do so methodically and deliberately by visually altering the landscape a bit at a time through their minds to become more like the true Amber--until they arrive. It's almost as if they have to re-create it every time. This series was written in the 1970s and it feels a bit dated. but what I love is how Zelazny shows his characters moving from one world to another, much like the way the time machine moved through time in the classic movie. So in The Map across Time, I tried to capture some of the chaotic and insane effects one might feel zooming through time as the world and sky spun in fury. I also borrowed from one of my favorite Ray Bradbury stories, "A Sound of Thunder" (from which the whole "butterfly effect" comes from), that has the main character "bumping" into himself as he goes back to the past and then returning to the future. It's all fun.
So, if you haven't had a chance to read The Map across Time yet and you love convoluted time travel stories, be sure to check it out. Yes, there are those odd potentially universe-destroying paradoxes where characters might (that's all I'll give you...) run into "themselves," but I'll leave you to work it all out.
If you think I've had enough of time travel, I haven't. I've written the first book in a young adult series called Time Sniffers, which is now getting sent out to publishers. Already one publisher is interested in acquiring it and my hope is that it will be the next big hit. The book is a little like the classic A Wrinkle in Time (throw in The Breakfast Club and The Philadelphia Experiment for good measure). Surely who can resist alien camo dogs that sniff out rips in space-time and love pizza? If you think that's weird, maybe you should read the story of the guys who came up with...have you ever really wondered ... Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. If the public can suspend disbelief enough to root for those half-baked-in-the-shell creations, then I'm sure a few dogs that can turn into couches and walls and carpeting won't be a hard sell. Right?
Showing posts with label The Gates of Heaven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Gates of Heaven. Show all posts
The Wolf of Tebron ~ On Being a Mystic
In the fairy tale, The Wolf of Tebron, Ruyah the wolf quotes G. K. Chesterton from his 1908 book Orthodoxy: "The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious and everything else becomes lucid." In my study question in the back of the book, I ask, "If one allows for mystery in God, how does belief make everything in the world lucid?"
I realize this ventures into deep thinking, and two reviewers took offense at the idea that I was encouraging people to become "mystics" in the manner Chesterton is speaking of. And there's the key: to understand what Chesterton means by this statement. We have one modern-day interpretation of the word, at least one meaning of the word mystic that strays into esoteric knowledge and spiritism. Of course, Chesterton would not, even a century ago, be encouraging Christians to follow that line of belief. So what was he talking about?
Chesterton has a terrific chapter in his book called "The Maniac," where he explores what he feels truly defines someone sane as opposed to someone mad. "Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery, you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in the earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods but (unlike the agnostic of today) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. Thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand... The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious and everything else becomes lucid. The Christian permits free will to remain a sacred mystery . . . He puts the seed of dogma in a central darkness, but it branches forth in all directions with abounding natural health."
I also love what he says further about the difference between the symbols of a circle (the Moon=lunacy) and the cross: "As we have taken the circle as the symbol of reason and madness, we may very well take the cross as the symbol at once of mystery and of health. Buddhism is centripetal, but Christianity is centrifugal; it breaks out. For the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature, but it is fixed forever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller. But the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. Because it has a paradox at its centre it can grow without changing. The circle returns upon itself and is bound. The cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travelers."
Chesterton ends the chapter with words Ruyah quotes: "The moon is the mother of lunatics and has given to them all her name."
These are deep forays into symbolism, but I am intrigued by them. I love the image of the cross extending in four cardinal directions and enwrapping the earth until all four arms return to the paradoxical center of collision and unity. I love Chesteron's urging of us to become mystics (which Webster's defines as "inducing a feeling of awe or wonder"). Why? In another place (and one of the themes of Wolf) he says "The riddles of God are more satisfying than the mysteries of man." By allowing mystery in God, our not understanding everything about him but trusting in his sovereignty and majesty, we become lucid.
By the light of Christ, we can see everything, understand everything. Not in the sense that we have every answer to every question. But since Jesus IS the answer to every important, mysterious question, we can all be mystics and allow that hazy reality be our clairty. We see through a glass darkly right now, only knowing in part, so the Bible says. But one day we will see all clearly as it will be revealed to us. Chesterton's encouragement, then, for us is to embrace the mystery, to revel in it, knowing that God, through the cross, has enwrapped and embraced us in the mystery of Christ, and that--that alone--is what makes us sane and keeps all things lucid.
I realize this ventures into deep thinking, and two reviewers took offense at the idea that I was encouraging people to become "mystics" in the manner Chesterton is speaking of. And there's the key: to understand what Chesterton means by this statement. We have one modern-day interpretation of the word, at least one meaning of the word mystic that strays into esoteric knowledge and spiritism. Of course, Chesterton would not, even a century ago, be encouraging Christians to follow that line of belief. So what was he talking about?
Chesterton has a terrific chapter in his book called "The Maniac," where he explores what he feels truly defines someone sane as opposed to someone mad. "Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery, you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in the earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods but (unlike the agnostic of today) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. Thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand... The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious and everything else becomes lucid. The Christian permits free will to remain a sacred mystery . . . He puts the seed of dogma in a central darkness, but it branches forth in all directions with abounding natural health."
I also love what he says further about the difference between the symbols of a circle (the Moon=lunacy) and the cross: "As we have taken the circle as the symbol of reason and madness, we may very well take the cross as the symbol at once of mystery and of health. Buddhism is centripetal, but Christianity is centrifugal; it breaks out. For the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature, but it is fixed forever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller. But the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. Because it has a paradox at its centre it can grow without changing. The circle returns upon itself and is bound. The cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travelers."
Chesterton ends the chapter with words Ruyah quotes: "The moon is the mother of lunatics and has given to them all her name."
These are deep forays into symbolism, but I am intrigued by them. I love the image of the cross extending in four cardinal directions and enwrapping the earth until all four arms return to the paradoxical center of collision and unity. I love Chesteron's urging of us to become mystics (which Webster's defines as "inducing a feeling of awe or wonder"). Why? In another place (and one of the themes of Wolf) he says "The riddles of God are more satisfying than the mysteries of man." By allowing mystery in God, our not understanding everything about him but trusting in his sovereignty and majesty, we become lucid.
By the light of Christ, we can see everything, understand everything. Not in the sense that we have every answer to every question. But since Jesus IS the answer to every important, mysterious question, we can all be mystics and allow that hazy reality be our clairty. We see through a glass darkly right now, only knowing in part, so the Bible says. But one day we will see all clearly as it will be revealed to us. Chesterton's encouragement, then, for us is to embrace the mystery, to revel in it, knowing that God, through the cross, has enwrapped and embraced us in the mystery of Christ, and that--that alone--is what makes us sane and keeps all things lucid.
The Wolf of Tebron ~ Conditional Joy
What really got me started on writing fairy tales--specifically, not fantasy, but fairy tales--was reading what G. K. Chesterton wrote in Orthodoxy. He says that fairy tales stand out from other genres and even fantasy in general due to what he calls "The doctrine of conditional joy." Fairy tales always present a nearly incomprehensible happiness that rests on a difficult and often impossible condition or task that must be accomplished or avoided. Oftentimes the task makes no sense--like you can win the princess's hand if you do not say the word onion. Or if you pluck a chicken feather on a full moon, you will lose the kingdom. Many fairy tales begin with a quest. Either a young adult sets out on a journey or mission, then encounters many trials and tests to reveal their character. Often the one thought of as stupid or incompetent, but who has a good heart, wins out over the sibling that has smarts and courage but no integrity.
Fairy tales are often full of moral admonition, sometimes obvious, sometimes not. In The Wolf of Tebron, Joran sets out to find his wife, who has disappeared in a whisk of magic. He must solve riddles, endure hardships, and look deep within to find truth. He is told that if he seeks specifically for happiness, he will not find it. But if he seeks truth, he just might find happiness in doing so. This is what C. S. Lewis speaks about in Mere Christianity. By faithfully doing what must be done, he succeeds in his quest, even though the things asked of him seem impossible, and he truly believes happiness in incomprehensible and unattainable.
“We all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment…Here I am only trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity...it was good to be in a fairy tale… Well, I left fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and I have not found any books so sensible since.”G.K. Chesterton
Fairy tales are often full of moral admonition, sometimes obvious, sometimes not. In The Wolf of Tebron, Joran sets out to find his wife, who has disappeared in a whisk of magic. He must solve riddles, endure hardships, and look deep within to find truth. He is told that if he seeks specifically for happiness, he will not find it. But if he seeks truth, he just might find happiness in doing so. This is what C. S. Lewis speaks about in Mere Christianity. By faithfully doing what must be done, he succeeds in his quest, even though the things asked of him seem impossible, and he truly believes happiness in incomprehensible and unattainable.
“We all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment…Here I am only trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity...it was good to be in a fairy tale… Well, I left fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and I have not found any books so sensible since.”G.K. Chesterton
The Wolf of Tebron ~ Dreaming
Now that the first book in The Gates of Heaven series has been released, I've been asked many questions about the themes, quotations, and allegory contained within The Wolf of Tebron. As with all my novels, I start with theme, and this book lent itself in plot and storyline to the theme of dreaming. Why dreaming? I drifted into this idea on many levels. Mostly, I needed a vehicle by which Joran would have to tackle his quest--the rescue of his wife. I'm not sure exactly how the concept of dreaming filtered into my subconscious, but I have often thought of how our lives resemble a dream. How we sleepwalk through this life unaware of our true life in Christ, the real life God has planned for us from the beginning of time. We have been dreamed up, as Ruyah the wolf tells Joran in the book, by the One who creates all things by way of his dreaming. God imagines--and things come into existence.
Joran's wife, Charris, is trapped in a dream that is manifested and upheld by Joran's anger. Joran is unaware that he is responsible for his wife's captivity, and the only way he can save her is by entering his dream to rescue her from the clutches of the Moon, who has her trapped in a sand castle overhanging the sea. Joran, though, cannot enter this place of rescue--his dream--until he has mastered his anger. He has to accomplish other things as well, but I don't want to spoil the story here. As I researched famous quotes by poets and thinkers, I came across one stark and powerful line from the psychologist Carl Jung: "Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens." This tied in nicely with the key phrase of Chesterton's that spurred me on: "The center of man's existence is a dream."
We are not only dreamed up by our Creator, but we are also filled with dreams. Not just the dreams we randomly experience at night but the big dreams of our soul--the dreams God puts in us--or as our pastor so aptly put--God doesn't give us a dream; he puts us inside HIS dream. He calls us in to share and fulfill the dream he already has for us. We are part of his larger dream for all mankind. In this way, Chesterton's words ring out to me. As Joran reflected--not just the center of his existence felt a dream--every bit of his life did as well. It was only, in the end, when he stopped looking outside for direction, answers, and clarity did he finally "awaken." He looked "inside" and faced the truth of who he was in relation to the truth of his existence. We, too, "wake up" when God opens our eyes to truth and shows us who we are in him.
It is like being shaken awake. And often it is more like having a bucket of cold water dumped on our heads. We learn through Joran's journey that we can be both the dreamer and the dreamed. And that is our true path in life--to recognize this fact and embrace it. Joran does, and he finds the true happiness he sought--happiness that can only come when one is awakened on the inside.
Joran's wife, Charris, is trapped in a dream that is manifested and upheld by Joran's anger. Joran is unaware that he is responsible for his wife's captivity, and the only way he can save her is by entering his dream to rescue her from the clutches of the Moon, who has her trapped in a sand castle overhanging the sea. Joran, though, cannot enter this place of rescue--his dream--until he has mastered his anger. He has to accomplish other things as well, but I don't want to spoil the story here. As I researched famous quotes by poets and thinkers, I came across one stark and powerful line from the psychologist Carl Jung: "Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens." This tied in nicely with the key phrase of Chesterton's that spurred me on: "The center of man's existence is a dream."
We are not only dreamed up by our Creator, but we are also filled with dreams. Not just the dreams we randomly experience at night but the big dreams of our soul--the dreams God puts in us--or as our pastor so aptly put--God doesn't give us a dream; he puts us inside HIS dream. He calls us in to share and fulfill the dream he already has for us. We are part of his larger dream for all mankind. In this way, Chesterton's words ring out to me. As Joran reflected--not just the center of his existence felt a dream--every bit of his life did as well. It was only, in the end, when he stopped looking outside for direction, answers, and clarity did he finally "awaken." He looked "inside" and faced the truth of who he was in relation to the truth of his existence. We, too, "wake up" when God opens our eyes to truth and shows us who we are in him.
It is like being shaken awake. And often it is more like having a bucket of cold water dumped on our heads. We learn through Joran's journey that we can be both the dreamer and the dreamed. And that is our true path in life--to recognize this fact and embrace it. Joran does, and he finds the true happiness he sought--happiness that can only come when one is awakened on the inside.
The Inspiration for The Wolf of Tebron ~ Honoring Sweetie
For those who haven't heard of my Christian fairy tale called The Wolf of Tebron, (and that is many of you!), I would like to introduce you to "Sweetie," the basic inspiration for my fantasy novel who just passed away this year. I am especially fond of dogs, and I don't have to say anything more to you dog-lovers out there. Some of you don't know the deep joy that comes from having a furry, loyal companion who always cheers you up just by existing. That's an amazing gift, and I believe God intended it that way. Do you really think it is a coincidence that "dog" is "god" backwards? Well, at least in English...
What motivated me to write this novel was this: I love the idea of using fantasy as a vehicle to tell the redemption story of Christ. C.S. Lewis did it well for children in the Chronicles of Narnia, but I had a problem with Aslan, the lion. A big problem.
OK, we know he's not a tame lion, but he also rarely shows up in all the books of the series. He makes an occasional appearance, and yes, he does give his mortal life to save humanity. That's powerful. that's essential. But I felt it lacking, for the God I know isn't like that. He is, well, more like my dog, but better. I saw God as someone who stayed right by my side--through trials and joys, through fears and confusion. Watching over my while I sleep, keeping me fed and warm, and teaching me all along the way the things I need to know, even things I really don't want to know about myself. So that is Ruyah, my wolf. A timeless wizard accompanying Joran on his quest to rescue his wife from the clutches of the Moon.
At first Joran doesn't want to trust him or even be around him. But as the story progresses, Joran becomes quite attached and falls in love with this ponderous, funny, exasperating wolf who refuses to abandon Joran, even when ordered to. And in the end, the only way for Joran to survive the chaos at the shore of his dreams is for Ruyah to sacrifice his life. And not only that--Joran must kill him with his own hands.
I think, for me, that became so much more powerful a story. Because God is and does all those things for us. And there is some poignancy, if I could call it that, in imagining we wield the hammer and the nails to put Christ on the cross, that we have to strike a deliberate blow and claim responsibility for his death and embrace that pain in our own arms in order to welcome him into our hearts. The book has a happy ending, as do all fairy tales (or I should say most), but I won't do a spoiler here.
Here's one last cute image. When Lee and I were ready to pray thanks over dinner one evening by the TV, we bowed our heads and grabbed hands. And then we felt a paw rest on top of our grasp. There was Sweetie, head bowed, still and respectful while we said our prayer. I think her prayer was a little different and went something like this, "Wow, that chicken sure looks good and I really am so cute. Look at my thumping tail and soft, brown eyes. Surely there is a piece on your plates for me." The Bible does say that ALL creatures know their maker (Job 12:7-9). Is it possible that we humans are the only ones who haven't a clue?
I asked Sweetie and she said : "duh!"
Welcome to a New Fairy Tale Series ~ Part II
My introductory post discussed the power of fairy tales and the way fairy tale structure is different from other fantasy subgenres. (If you're new to this concept, read the blog entry before this.) The key point is that the traditional fairy tale structure mirrors the reality of our existence--the tale centers around an impossible happiness that is contingent upon a simple but often inexplicable requirement.
And that’s what is so fantastic—that the same rule applies to restoration. Just as our first parents’ happiness rested on an incomprehensible condition (you must not eat of the fruit…), our eternal happiness rests on one simple condition: Whoever believes in the Son of God will be saved. God doesn’t make things complicated—we do. He gave Adam and Eve a simple, clear condition. Had they obeyed, they wouldn’t have lost God.
So, we see in true fairy tales, the hero or heroine off on a journey where they have to make a choice. There is always a choice, always free will. The choice will involve some incomprehensible reward of happiness, yet will rest on some incomprehensible condition. When we read, for example, how Frodo must enter into Mordor against all odds and destroy the ring in the fires of Mount Doom, it is an incomprehensible task. It is a simple one, but nearly impossible. Yet, all the happiness of Middle Earth depends on his accomplishing this task.
Fairy tales are filled with impossible tasks, yet it is the celebration of the human spirit—of dignity, honor, resolve, love, and often sacrifice—that sends the hero out on a journey to tackle that task head on. This is our history. The story of God becoming man and setting out on a difficult journey to fix what was wrong. It cost him pain, humiliation, sorrow, suffering—facing a seemingly impossible task, but he did it and declared, “It is finished.” The huge, long, epic fairy tale that began in the garden of Eden finished at the cross. Everything once scattered and lost was now gathered and found.
This is what inspired and fired me up to write these fairy tales. I wanted to take traditional fairy tale elements that are deeply ingrained in our memories and hearts and weave them into new tales for all ages. Tales that deal with high concept, with epic themes, not just be entertaining stories. The characters in these books struggle internally as well as externally. They question their place in the world, their dreams, their hopes. Well, they are a lot like us. And they have to overcome their fear and human frailty, trusting in some inner strength and help from heaven to succeed in the end.
What I love most about writing fairy tales is being able to use metaphor and imagery. In The Wolf of Tebron, the themes of waking and dreaming are explored from all angles. Joran, in his search for his wife, held captive by the Moon, realizes he is a dream in the mind of the One who dreams all existence into being. And that he learns he can live his dream while wide awake. In The Map across Time, the kingdom is under a curse that makes men do evil. If this curse isn’t counteracted, hope is lost. This is the metaphor for our lives under sin’s curse. And blood is used heavily as a symbol in this book to tie in with redemptive and saving power. In The Land of Darkness, the symbols of light and darkness are explored. People wander lost in the Land of Darkness, but they don’t know they are lost. And they don’t know they are in the dark. A perfect metaphor for our existence. Only by crossing an invisible bridge—one that can only be seen with eyes of faith—can our heroes get out of the Land of Darkness. I won’t give any spoilers here—you will just have to read the book to learn what the bridge really is.
I just completed writing the fourth fairy tale—The Unraveling of Wentwater. I got the idea from Chesterton, in that line in Orthodoxy where he says “a word is forgotten and cities perish.” In this tale, an entire village unravels one word at a time, as every word in existence begins to disappear and, along with it, the objects they give meaning to. The theme of Wentwater has to do with mercy versus justice, and explores the futile pursuit of knowledge that leaves mercy behind. “The wisdom of the wise perishes”--literally!
The title of the series relates to the seven “gates of heaven” that are set up in different locales in this fantasy world. Heaven places these stone structures on earth to prevent evil from getting a stronghold into the world of men. Keepers were assigned to watch over the sites, but over time, the sites have been either abandoned or torn down or destroyed. Evil, then, had free rein into the world. Each book of the proposed seven-book series features a different “gate” in a different locale, where the story interweaves with this structure. Just picture Stonehenge and you’ll have an idea of what these look like.
I’m excited to continue the tradition of C. S. Lewis and Narnia. I feel there is a void left in his wake, with so many yearning to read fairy tales that give hope and inspire and work on many levels of symbolism. Hopefully, The Gates of Heaven collection of tales will fill that void and brighten the hearts of readers for a long time!
And that’s what is so fantastic—that the same rule applies to restoration. Just as our first parents’ happiness rested on an incomprehensible condition (you must not eat of the fruit…), our eternal happiness rests on one simple condition: Whoever believes in the Son of God will be saved. God doesn’t make things complicated—we do. He gave Adam and Eve a simple, clear condition. Had they obeyed, they wouldn’t have lost God.
So, we see in true fairy tales, the hero or heroine off on a journey where they have to make a choice. There is always a choice, always free will. The choice will involve some incomprehensible reward of happiness, yet will rest on some incomprehensible condition. When we read, for example, how Frodo must enter into Mordor against all odds and destroy the ring in the fires of Mount Doom, it is an incomprehensible task. It is a simple one, but nearly impossible. Yet, all the happiness of Middle Earth depends on his accomplishing this task.
Fairy tales are filled with impossible tasks, yet it is the celebration of the human spirit—of dignity, honor, resolve, love, and often sacrifice—that sends the hero out on a journey to tackle that task head on. This is our history. The story of God becoming man and setting out on a difficult journey to fix what was wrong. It cost him pain, humiliation, sorrow, suffering—facing a seemingly impossible task, but he did it and declared, “It is finished.” The huge, long, epic fairy tale that began in the garden of Eden finished at the cross. Everything once scattered and lost was now gathered and found.
This is what inspired and fired me up to write these fairy tales. I wanted to take traditional fairy tale elements that are deeply ingrained in our memories and hearts and weave them into new tales for all ages. Tales that deal with high concept, with epic themes, not just be entertaining stories. The characters in these books struggle internally as well as externally. They question their place in the world, their dreams, their hopes. Well, they are a lot like us. And they have to overcome their fear and human frailty, trusting in some inner strength and help from heaven to succeed in the end.
What I love most about writing fairy tales is being able to use metaphor and imagery. In The Wolf of Tebron, the themes of waking and dreaming are explored from all angles. Joran, in his search for his wife, held captive by the Moon, realizes he is a dream in the mind of the One who dreams all existence into being. And that he learns he can live his dream while wide awake. In The Map across Time, the kingdom is under a curse that makes men do evil. If this curse isn’t counteracted, hope is lost. This is the metaphor for our lives under sin’s curse. And blood is used heavily as a symbol in this book to tie in with redemptive and saving power. In The Land of Darkness, the symbols of light and darkness are explored. People wander lost in the Land of Darkness, but they don’t know they are lost. And they don’t know they are in the dark. A perfect metaphor for our existence. Only by crossing an invisible bridge—one that can only be seen with eyes of faith—can our heroes get out of the Land of Darkness. I won’t give any spoilers here—you will just have to read the book to learn what the bridge really is.
I just completed writing the fourth fairy tale—The Unraveling of Wentwater. I got the idea from Chesterton, in that line in Orthodoxy where he says “a word is forgotten and cities perish.” In this tale, an entire village unravels one word at a time, as every word in existence begins to disappear and, along with it, the objects they give meaning to. The theme of Wentwater has to do with mercy versus justice, and explores the futile pursuit of knowledge that leaves mercy behind. “The wisdom of the wise perishes”--literally!
The title of the series relates to the seven “gates of heaven” that are set up in different locales in this fantasy world. Heaven places these stone structures on earth to prevent evil from getting a stronghold into the world of men. Keepers were assigned to watch over the sites, but over time, the sites have been either abandoned or torn down or destroyed. Evil, then, had free rein into the world. Each book of the proposed seven-book series features a different “gate” in a different locale, where the story interweaves with this structure. Just picture Stonehenge and you’ll have an idea of what these look like.
I’m excited to continue the tradition of C. S. Lewis and Narnia. I feel there is a void left in his wake, with so many yearning to read fairy tales that give hope and inspire and work on many levels of symbolism. Hopefully, The Gates of Heaven collection of tales will fill that void and brighten the hearts of readers for a long time!
Welcome to a New Fairy Tale Series ~ Part I
Allegorical fantasy is a powerful way to convey themes using symbolism and metaphor. Many people scoff at fantasy and find no interest in it. But as a culture, as a world of people, we only have to look at most of the top-selling novels in all of history. Nearly all of them—from Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan to The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter—are fantasy. Why is fantasy such a powerful medium, and why does it have such staying power?
My answer may surprise you. Many have heard of Joseph Campbell’s study on the power of myth. Myth is deeply entrenched in our culture, in our psyche, in our past. And it’s our past that intrigues me. Because of the mythic elements that make up our past, our true history is hardwired into who we are and casts shadows on our place in the universe.
What compelled me to write fantasy was not just my love for the genre (and I have been reading fairy tales and fantasy books since grade school). It was because I came across a small book written in the late 1800s by the famous G. K. Chesterton called Orthodoxy. Chesterton devotes an entire chapter to the merits of fantasy and particularly fairy tales. He calls this chapter “The Ethics of Elfland.” There are many types of fantasy styles and genres, but only the fairy tale follows specific rules that mirror our true existence in this world. And this is why I believe fairy tales resonate to the deepest part of our souls.
One benefit to fairy tales, according to Chesterton, is their ability to wake us up and make us look at the magic and splendor that is our own existence. He says the strongest emotion fairy tales induced in him was “that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. It was good to be in a fairy tale. The test of all happiness is gratitude. And I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom.”
Here’s the point that really opened my eyes. He spoke of the great principle of fairy philosophy: “I will call it ‘The Doctrine of Conditional Joy.’ The note of the fairy utterance always is, ‘You may live in a palace of gold, if you do not say the word cow.’ Or ‘You may live happily ever after with the King’s daughter, if you do not show her an onion.’ The vision always hangs upon a veto. All the dizzy and colossal things conceded depend upon one small thing withheld. All the wild and whirling things that are let loose depend upon ONE thing that is forbidden….In the fairy tale an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. A box is opened and all evils fly out. A word is forgotten and cities perish. A lamp is lit and love flies away…and . . .” (This is the kicker!) “…An apple is eaten and the hope of God is gone.”
Of course, we know Adam and Eve didn’t eat an apple, but they did eat a piece of forbidden fruit. Do we really get his point? Our entire existence, our purpose in life, the reason we are here, now, in this world, which is in this mess, is all because of this doctrine of conditional joy—a doctrine God invented and imposed upon us. This is why fairy tales are so powerful. Our lives are all wrapped around this one truth—that a condition was given, and when it was overstepped, we lost God. And now we are spending our lives trying to gain back what has been lost. We have been created to search for God, to look for what has been lost, and to discover what the one condition is that will restore all things to perfect balance.(will be continued in next post)
My answer may surprise you. Many have heard of Joseph Campbell’s study on the power of myth. Myth is deeply entrenched in our culture, in our psyche, in our past. And it’s our past that intrigues me. Because of the mythic elements that make up our past, our true history is hardwired into who we are and casts shadows on our place in the universe.
What compelled me to write fantasy was not just my love for the genre (and I have been reading fairy tales and fantasy books since grade school). It was because I came across a small book written in the late 1800s by the famous G. K. Chesterton called Orthodoxy. Chesterton devotes an entire chapter to the merits of fantasy and particularly fairy tales. He calls this chapter “The Ethics of Elfland.” There are many types of fantasy styles and genres, but only the fairy tale follows specific rules that mirror our true existence in this world. And this is why I believe fairy tales resonate to the deepest part of our souls.
One benefit to fairy tales, according to Chesterton, is their ability to wake us up and make us look at the magic and splendor that is our own existence. He says the strongest emotion fairy tales induced in him was “that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. It was good to be in a fairy tale. The test of all happiness is gratitude. And I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom.”
Here’s the point that really opened my eyes. He spoke of the great principle of fairy philosophy: “I will call it ‘The Doctrine of Conditional Joy.’ The note of the fairy utterance always is, ‘You may live in a palace of gold, if you do not say the word cow.’ Or ‘You may live happily ever after with the King’s daughter, if you do not show her an onion.’ The vision always hangs upon a veto. All the dizzy and colossal things conceded depend upon one small thing withheld. All the wild and whirling things that are let loose depend upon ONE thing that is forbidden….In the fairy tale an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. A box is opened and all evils fly out. A word is forgotten and cities perish. A lamp is lit and love flies away…and . . .” (This is the kicker!) “…An apple is eaten and the hope of God is gone.”
Of course, we know Adam and Eve didn’t eat an apple, but they did eat a piece of forbidden fruit. Do we really get his point? Our entire existence, our purpose in life, the reason we are here, now, in this world, which is in this mess, is all because of this doctrine of conditional joy—a doctrine God invented and imposed upon us. This is why fairy tales are so powerful. Our lives are all wrapped around this one truth—that a condition was given, and when it was overstepped, we lost God. And now we are spending our lives trying to gain back what has been lost. We have been created to search for God, to look for what has been lost, and to discover what the one condition is that will restore all things to perfect balance.(will be continued in next post)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)