Into the Fire

Do you as a reader and even as a writer approach Christian Fiction differently from General Market fare that you know won’t contain many if any spiritual references in the story? Do you have a built-in reservation that the Christian novel you’re about to read might contain some cheesy Christian-ese, stereotyped church people, a happily-ever-after conclusion?

Have you established criteria for what you expect to find when reading Christian fiction? Have you done the same for general market novels?

Do you think there could be a personal double standard to how you approach these sometimes very diverse reading selections?

Most of us accept the fact that if we venture into general market novels, we will encounter some bad language and the possibility of gratuitous violence and sexual explicitness. Might not happen but nobody’s surprised when it does. When some readers approach Christian fiction via CBA publishers, they expect no bad language, some violence depending on the genre, and no sexual explicitness. Violate these (CBA) expectations/restrictions and look out for the wrath of some “Christian” readers.

Since these expectations/restrictions are for the most part adhered to in the library of Christian fiction, does that provide the impetus to insist on a higher level of writing to overcome a stereotypical “Christian” novel? Does it seem like in the process of putting out “Christian Fiction” that editors in publishing houses are seeking similar novels and not looking for initiative or genuinely “fresh” voices?

We could all state (and have stated): Just give me a good story—but written well. And throw in some gold bullion while you’re at it. Our tastes in literature differ not only in content and genre but in style and voice and even format. From fluff to horror we approach reading with expectations according to what we’ve come to like and appreciate. It could be argued we sometimes “settle for” novels in either market because we find so few that are exceptional. What I wonder is if there is a double standard applied to accepting less in the general market than there is in accepting the same grade of novel in Christian fiction? 

Father, help us to write that which honors you, however that is. Help us put you first in all of our endeavors. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Those of us who are avid readers of Christian Fiction will admit to having experienced that “canned” testimony moment in some of its offerings. Or the tossed in “prayers” at critical crises. Or the “preachy” explanations of Christian-ese activities and dialogue. Or the goodie-two-shoes characters or even worse the holier-than-thou characters.

So. Is it the "Christian" in fiction that insults, irritates, or inflames its critics?

In one of the all-time best novels I’ve ever read, Lisa Samson writes The Passion of Mary-Margaret as a memoir of an aging Catholic Sister who’s been assigned to leave a record of her life. In that story of course readers would expect to encounter some “religion”, but in this book the miraculous comes so—the common word now is—organically, and so naturally, as to set it apart and make it “true” and real.

Going back in time to what is considered classic Christian literature, Frank Peretti dared to put “faces” on and give “personalities” to demons. Addressing spiritual warfare in a “down-to-earth” and completely understandable, fathomable way, This Present Darkness and Piercing the Darkness gave readers seeking an entertaining, exciting, and honest rendition of this neglected facet of Christianity an opportunity for spiritual exploration via story and accomplished setting the stage for future supernatural thrillers which no one took advantage of—or equaled—for years to come. Granted, C. S. Lewis wrote The Screwtape Letters many years before either of Peretti’s novels, but Peretti unleashed the decidedly contemporary and American flavor to the battle for souls conducted outside of our normal vision.

The “come to Jesus moment” expression has gained momentum in the media, often being mocked by those who hold disdain for anything they deem “religious” and other times referring to a spiritual wakeup call. In truth these supernatural moments can have amazing and exhilarating appeal if addressed with the substantive drama and humility they warrant. Or they can ignite wrath from those who happen to read a “religious” novel expecting it to be something other than what it is.

This inherent challenge remains the big deal for writers who serve the Lord. Addressing faith and the issues it incorporates in all the various forms and genres of fiction, while giving writers unlimited options, can be the critical measure in determining the wow factor of a story. This is certainly where the writer exercises his talent with words. Or not.

I confess to using multiple “come to Jesus moments” in my stories acknowledging that none of them are directly responsible for saving souls. That burden is totally a God-thing. He calls. People either answer with a yes or a no. He can certainly use novels as easily as anything else, and I’m sure He has, but to think any novel will be an evangelical tool in any form is a mistake at best, an arrogant assumption at worst.

I contend it can be the Christian factor in Christian Fiction that causes dissension and discontent because of how it’s sometimes handled and/or received. However, very few professionals who responded to last week’s Question/Poll gave any indication they assumed that the overall genre should not contain material related to our Christian faith. We are instructed to be in the world, not of the world, so that reasoning allows us to unashamedly explore our faith within stories. How this is done varies from writer to writer, dogma to dogma, and genre to genre. Our primary personal question remains: What does the Lord want me to write and how does he want me to write it?

Father, direct me in your ways always. Help me to hear your voice more clearly, more completely, and to follow with total devotion. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.   

Yesterday Brenda Anderson left this comment:

It's the belief that CBA fiction is subpar that led me to begin writing reviews a few years back. I volunteered in our church library at that time and found that the majority of our church members avoided the library–particularly fiction–because they believed everything was sweet & fluffy. As someone who reads a ton, and I try to read from all genres, I can honestly say that CBA fiction comprises far more than simple & sweet. So, I started writing book reviews (or recommendations, to be more accurate) for our church newsletter, reviews of quality CBA fiction–reviews of books that were different from the simple & sweet stereotype.

Nicole, you mentioned Steven James, Lisa Samson, Chris Fabry. All excellent, excellent writers, comparable to anyone. How about Athol Dickson? Dale Cramer, Tosca Lee, Charles Martin … I could name many more. Here in Minnesota, Julie Klassen has gone up against general market writers in book award competitions and has won.

Maybe once upon a time it was true that Christian fiction was subpar. I honestly don't believe that's the case any more, and I'm a very picky reader. Sure, I have to wade through many books to find one that's great, but that's true in the general market too. To me, the big question is, how do we overcome the stereotype?

The subpar label is often attached to Christian fiction by readers who first and foremost have probably read less than 20 novels in the overall genre. These readers sometimes lean toward philosophical and/or literary offerings in the general market and consider themselves open-minded. Please note I’ve used the telling words of “probably” and “sometimes”. If I’d read a smattering of novels in the general market in one or two genres, I would be honest enough to admit I’m no judge of the overall market. Most of my reading outside Christian fiction came a long time ago and included the likes of Dostoevsky, Hemingway, Salinger, D. H. Lawrence, Ken Kesey, Kafka, Daphne duMaurier, Ayn Rand, and so on to name a few. In recent times my general market fare consists primarily of Vince Flynn, and I’ve read one Tom Clancy, one Brian Haig, and I’ve got a Tess Gerritsen waiting in the wings. My Christian fiction numbers exceed 300 novels and counting.

If you’ll glance above at the authors named by Brenda Anderson and me, you’ve got distinct styles and voices and other than Steven James’ thrillers, several of those authors lean toward the literary, certainly in quality of writing and unusual plotting.

As I told Brenda in my reply to her comment, I have no idea how to get readers to move beyond stereotyping Christian fiction as subpar or to be fair in their assessments based on comparative value. It’s probably true that a large percentage of published novels are very average in either markets as both Brendas and I suggested, but no one thinks a thing about it when discussing the value of general market fare because of the authors who’ve managed to merit huge success with highly acclaimed quality writing.

So. Could it be or is it in fact the possibility of including the gospel or suggesting the lifestyle of Christianity in some of Christian fiction that is done so inorganically or so clumsily or so “religiously” as to cause the negative reactions from some readers? Is it the “Christian factor” which grates on the mentalities of certain readers?

Or is it the commonality of language usage, clichéd plots, and perceived happy endings that stir up negative commentary? Because certainly all of these factors are present in much of the general market fare as well.

Or is it the perceived general lack of gritty, gut-level circumstances that is evident in some of the lighter-weight stories in Christian fiction but certainly not evident and very much exposed in the offerings of the above authors, that sends some readers into criticism of the genre?

Brenda A. is correct in stating it takes a lot of reading to discover true gems in either market, but that’s what makes those novels special.

It makes one wonder about the expectations of certain readers when they pick up a novel from either market. Is there a different standard used to evaluate the stories?

Father, here we are again. One of the most precious things to me in light of my redemption is that you’re no respecter of persons. Thank you so much for that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.   

From Brenda Jackson’s comment yesterday:

Where does "Christian" fiction fit in my life? I read a thriller this weekend by John Gilstrap called Threat Warning. One of the best books I've read in ages. A few minor swear words? Yes. A little trash talking slang in a few parts? Yes. But filled with tension–it was so hard for me to put it down. So in the last six or seven years, the two really high quality (subjectively determined by me) books I've liked (the other being These Is My Words by Nancy Turner) were both general market fiction. So again that makes me ask myself the question: Why do I not find knock-my-socks-off fiction in CBA? Am I just mean and harsh? Am I a heathen who doesn't know how to appreciate the faith message? Am I still that sinful? Honestly, I don't know. In reading Threat Warning and comparing it to other books I've read in CBA, one of the things that comes to mind is that it seems for people who write for the general market, they feel freer to be more emotionally raw and real life. I don't mean gross or disgusting but it just seems somehow a book like that strips away the facades and gets down to real life without reserve or hesitation. Perhaps I'm just not feeling that same thing when I read CBA fic.

I think Brenda, to be fair, would reiterate that CBA fiction rarely produces her ideal tastes in novels. She, generally speaking, prefers historicals without the ever-present and dominant romance factor inserted into and overtaking most every story. So, for Brenda, there’s strike one against it right off the bat. (Don’t ya just love the cliché baseball metaphors?) 

She brings up again (for those who follow the debates on blogs) the language “thing” evidenced in most general market fare, but she also wonders if those authors writing for the general market aren’t somehow “freer to [write] more emotionally raw and [true to] real life.” This claim inevitably causes jawing and jeering and cajoling from various positions within the spectrum of Christians who write fiction.

I haven’t had the chance to ask Brenda if she’s read Robert Liparulo, Steven James, or J. Mark Bertrand. Their fiction is on a par with any general market author in the thriller or noir procedurals. And if you’re looking for further quality writing, look to Lisa Samson and Chris Fabry, just to name a couple, for contemporary stories that offer uncommon storylines.

If anyone walks into the now defunct Borders or the still present Barnes & Noble stores, viewing the shelves and shelves of fiction is mind-boggling. Out of all those novels, is it genuinely fair to say, proportionately, the general market offers better work? Especially if your normal reading menu comes from that option and your Christian fiction reading is limited? Of course if you want to compare similar genres, having read from both markets, to make a quantitative judgment, then, yes, your opinion carries some weight at least from the fairness standpoint.

This post is in no way a criticism of Brenda’s quandary because she brings up legitimate points and questions. She can rarely find what she wants to read in CBA fiction and often when she takes a chance on a novel, it disappoints her. If she wants to read fiction, she’s far more likely to find broader selections in the general market. That’s a fact.

I think the strongest point in Brenda’s commentary lies here: “. . . it just seems somehow a book like that strips away the facades and gets down to real life without reserve or hesitation.” I agree that often CBA fiction struggles with this reality or we could even call it honesty. Sin doesn’t always dress nice and speak well. It’s filthy and vile and sometimes filtering it comes off as disingenuous.

I’m guessing what’s at the heart of this—and I could be absolutely wrong—is the desire to read stories which don’t hold back. Stories that punch the reader in the gut with the sometimes ugly reality of just right words and make them feel it for a ways into the story and perhaps all the way through to its end, not releasing the reader with tidy wrap ups or shiny characters or easy endings.

But to be fair to other readers, and this is also a point of consternation for some writers who wish them to be “different”—other readers prefer light, fluff, and/or happy ending little stories that don’t drag them to where they don’t want to go, don’t remind them of this dirty little world, don’t make their hearts break all over again, and you get the drift. And what better place to find that kind of reading than in the CBA market? Where “good” is king—or queen—and right prevails. (Although certainly not always.)

I think Brenda was being a little too hard on herself with her questions, but I understand her feelings. Vince Flynn is one of my favorite authors. He’s not the best writer in the library, but, wow baby, can he write political/CIA thrillers, and he’s created one of the best characters of the thriller genre in Mitch Rapp. To echo Brenda, yes, there are some language issues, some crude vernacular used, and some vile situations, but there is a necessary reality which flows through the stories and makes them unforgettable with super-charged experiences that have their own element of truth to cement their value.

Your comments are welcome, but here’s what I’d prefer not to see: bashing CBA fiction if you haven’t got legitimate comparisons from both markets in the same genre. If you’ve read a handful of CBA fiction and dismissed it without any further investigation, and you want to condemn it all based on that limited experience, sorry: your opinion won’t hold a lot of weight. Not that what you have to say isn’t thoughtful or has no value, it’s just not based on a reasonable sampling of the overall genre. Thank you for understanding.

And thank you, Brenda J., for always displaying your honesty and for your fervor and relentless search for good books.

Father, help us to understand one another, to not bicker about inconsequential nonsense. We have so much to be thankful for and so many more things of importance with which to concern ourselves. We’re desperate for you, Lord. No doubt about that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.        

It was apparent from the responses to the Question/Poll who “approved” of the Christian Fiction label and who did not. The nuances in definitions and the outright insinuations of those who tend to dislike the label were put forth respectfully and, except for the stretching of three sentences in some cases, made their points. Those who wanted to adhere to the instructions and obviously held no malice to the term also expressed their opinions thoughtfully. Those who relegated it to a basic black-and-white matter gave succinct responses. All in all, I do think those who participated covered a large and diverse area of Christian Fiction/publishing and slightly beyond it.

“Christian worldview” turned up predominantly in definitions as one would expect, but that might be a project for another day since I’m sure what that means to some is far more specific than what it means to others. Nevertheless, the gist of the meaning suffices to create a common thread of understanding for the overall genre.

Personally speaking, those who harbor a kind of resentment toward “Christian” being used as an adjective don’t quite resonate with me. The reference is often used as a shortened form to describe a particular worldview of an individual in any given field or of a thing (i.e. Christian fiction, song, etc.). The disdain for admitting that, yes, it’s convenient to refer to someone (or something) with this adjective who emulates the belief system commonly known as Christianity puzzles me. Although anyone can attach that “title” to their person, place, or thing (business, etc.) and bring either praise or disgrace to it doesn’t nullify the truth of what’s at the core of its meaning. We all know hypocrites or have acted like one, so the attachment of Christian as an adjective is really a matter of inconsequence to me. Plus in the realm of fiction it clarifies a few things to readers.

This clarification can be difficult for many Christian writers simply because it’s less likely for some to use the overt methodology of the worldview in the telling of their tales than it is for others. Some of the authors who responded to this poll could easily have their novels placed in the general market genre categories without a stir (i.e. Robert Liparulo, Steven James, J. Mark Bertrand). Others’ novels might bring out the militants protesting the “religious” content if put into the general market fare—and more than likely would sell less rather than more books if infiltrated with general market novels in their genres. However, for any of our Christian novels to be placed in the “Religious” fiction areas of bookstores seems like a mark against them from the get-go. “Inspirational” bodes slightly better, but plain old “Christian Fiction” seems ultimately easier and a whole lot clearer if they must be separated from the rest.

There are a lot of us who write Christian fiction who might never receive a contract from so-called Christian publishers because of content presentation restrictions. Christian fiction has no problem revealing evil subject matter—it’s the way the topics/situations/conversations are written which makes for controversy and debate and, yes, disagreement.

Content in novels written by Christians should have the freedom to present evil and reveal truth while contrasting the world to the holy. The means to how this is done is determined by individual publishing houses. The result as we know it is classified as Christian Fiction. And although different houses cater to different tastes, the ideal circumstance—and the challenge—is to provide for all readers who gravitate to the labeled Christian Fiction market instead of a limited few which are perceived to be the not-so-silent majority.

I’m grateful for all of those who responded to my Question/Poll regarding the definition of Christian Fiction. Each one presented logical, thoughtful, honest, and meaningful responses. It doesn’t get any better than that. I appreciated seeing that really the similarities far outweighed the disparities.

Thanks to all of you both in the body of the posts and in the additional comments.

Father, we all need you to do any and all of what we do. We belong to you and our first priority is obedience to your call. Help us to be good servants. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.