‘The antidote to the wrong story is simply to tell the right story.’ Here’s what we were discussing last time, Mark. I prefer to think of the materialist story as simply incomplete. I guess one might go ‘full spiritual’ as a counterpoint but certainly feel my own task more as interweaving or bridge building to the not so apparent. Wholeheartedly agree about the fairytale or fable angle but equally dearly hope this doesn’t necessitate consigning my own realism to the waste bin of soulless plodding prose!
You make me realize that I used two meanings of "realism" interchangeably in the essay. I referred to St. Agnes and the Selkie as realist because it does not violate real world apparency the way Lord of the Rings or Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight do. On the other hand (spoilers) it is the story of the most beautiful girl in the kingdom who is courted by a king and a Viking. There is nothing remotely quotidian about it and any strict realist would call it a romance, which it is. And since I have just written a piece for another blog claiming the historical fiction is a form of fairytale (https://awriterofhistory.com/2024/01/22/historical-fiction-is-a-type-of-fairytale/) it really has no claim to realism in the strict sense at all.
"Plodding" was perhaps a little unkind. There is something in realism that insists upon the virtue of plodding, of going slowly and keeping ones eyes fixed upon the earth. It is, after all, intended an an antidote to romance. And it is true that one may see things doing that that you might no see otherwise, and that those things may be important and worth observing. The fact that I lack the patience for it is no fault of the art.
But I like very much the notion of building a bridge from the apparent to the true. That we should all strive for.
And yes I think the categories of spiritual and materialist - as you indicate - are false binaries when it comes both to authentic literature and the world the good Lord has made. As is any authentic opposition between realism and romance. ‘Ploddingness’ or plodding-mess seems to occur in modern fiction (to my mind) due to a loss of teleos. This can also infect fantasy.
While it isn't fiction, the Bible encompasses everything from history, to Jesus' realist parables to the strange symbolism of Revelation, and more. So I think our writing can too, in seeking to show/explore what 'the kingdom of God is like', as Jesus liked to preface His stories. (Although of course I'm not claiming that fiction is Scripture.)
Oh, definitely. The Bible incorporates many genre, and we can use all of them. I think the issue is that every genre has to deal with the limits of what is apparent in its own way, and in a way that the reader will accept.
"People always have their guard up against having their minds changed. They are always wary when someone challenges the fundamental societal stories that shape their understanding and their vision. After all, this challenge requires not only a change of ideas but a change of communities. A literal approach can set all those alarm bells ringing."
A very good point in an interesting back-and-forth discussion. I'm grappling with this in my new novel,-in-progress, which is contemporary/realistic literary fiction, by having the action switch mid-story to a sort of Shakespearean "green world," completely different than the protagonist's usual milieu. It gets her out of "real-life" and back in history and legend, a liminal place in which she (and the reader) can experience a shift in perspective. I feel the need to the take the reader on an unusual journey, away from "normal life" and the (by now, boring) culture wars of the 2020s. A Catholic view is a long view, and this only helps us , as writers. Even "realistic" fiction has an enormous treasure trove to work with in history, culture, and art. The reader can never be preached to, but he or she can still be enchanted in this genre. That's my working theory, anyway.
Sounds like a fascinating project. A challenge, certainly, but magical if you can pull it off. Good luck with it! Enchanted, not preached to. Amen to that.
‘The antidote to the wrong story is simply to tell the right story.’ Here’s what we were discussing last time, Mark. I prefer to think of the materialist story as simply incomplete. I guess one might go ‘full spiritual’ as a counterpoint but certainly feel my own task more as interweaving or bridge building to the not so apparent. Wholeheartedly agree about the fairytale or fable angle but equally dearly hope this doesn’t necessitate consigning my own realism to the waste bin of soulless plodding prose!
You make me realize that I used two meanings of "realism" interchangeably in the essay. I referred to St. Agnes and the Selkie as realist because it does not violate real world apparency the way Lord of the Rings or Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight do. On the other hand (spoilers) it is the story of the most beautiful girl in the kingdom who is courted by a king and a Viking. There is nothing remotely quotidian about it and any strict realist would call it a romance, which it is. And since I have just written a piece for another blog claiming the historical fiction is a form of fairytale (https://awriterofhistory.com/2024/01/22/historical-fiction-is-a-type-of-fairytale/) it really has no claim to realism in the strict sense at all.
"Plodding" was perhaps a little unkind. There is something in realism that insists upon the virtue of plodding, of going slowly and keeping ones eyes fixed upon the earth. It is, after all, intended an an antidote to romance. And it is true that one may see things doing that that you might no see otherwise, and that those things may be important and worth observing. The fact that I lack the patience for it is no fault of the art.
But I like very much the notion of building a bridge from the apparent to the true. That we should all strive for.
And yes I think the categories of spiritual and materialist - as you indicate - are false binaries when it comes both to authentic literature and the world the good Lord has made. As is any authentic opposition between realism and romance. ‘Ploddingness’ or plodding-mess seems to occur in modern fiction (to my mind) due to a loss of teleos. This can also infect fantasy.
While it isn't fiction, the Bible encompasses everything from history, to Jesus' realist parables to the strange symbolism of Revelation, and more. So I think our writing can too, in seeking to show/explore what 'the kingdom of God is like', as Jesus liked to preface His stories. (Although of course I'm not claiming that fiction is Scripture.)
Oh, definitely. The Bible incorporates many genre, and we can use all of them. I think the issue is that every genre has to deal with the limits of what is apparent in its own way, and in a way that the reader will accept.
"People always have their guard up against having their minds changed. They are always wary when someone challenges the fundamental societal stories that shape their understanding and their vision. After all, this challenge requires not only a change of ideas but a change of communities. A literal approach can set all those alarm bells ringing."
A very good point in an interesting back-and-forth discussion. I'm grappling with this in my new novel,-in-progress, which is contemporary/realistic literary fiction, by having the action switch mid-story to a sort of Shakespearean "green world," completely different than the protagonist's usual milieu. It gets her out of "real-life" and back in history and legend, a liminal place in which she (and the reader) can experience a shift in perspective. I feel the need to the take the reader on an unusual journey, away from "normal life" and the (by now, boring) culture wars of the 2020s. A Catholic view is a long view, and this only helps us , as writers. Even "realistic" fiction has an enormous treasure trove to work with in history, culture, and art. The reader can never be preached to, but he or she can still be enchanted in this genre. That's my working theory, anyway.
Sounds like a fascinating project. A challenge, certainly, but magical if you can pull it off. Good luck with it! Enchanted, not preached to. Amen to that.
Gah! I mixed up ontological and epistemological again. A free dope, but still a dope.
Thanks for this discussion. I'm glad to read others' thoughts on this.