Thanks to Penwright bud, Jessica Dotta, for the heads up on this. From the article in The Tennessean, Christian fiction thrives during economic crisis:
Local Christian publishers who launched or expanded their fiction lines in recent years are enjoying the fruits of their labors thanks to an unlikely source — the flagging economy.
While sales of Christian nonfiction have stalled during the recent economic crisis, sales of Christian fiction remain strong.
Karen Ball, executive editor at Southern Baptist-owned B&H Publishing Group, said that people are looking for a way to escape from the bad news of layoffs and plummeting stocks. “When reality gets ugly, fiction takes off,” she said.
Along with escape, Christian novels specialize in Christian hope.
“There’s some wonderful secular fiction out there, but it’s not offering any hope,” Ball said. “If anything it’s discouraging. In Christian fiction, there’s hope in the midst of trouble.” (Emphasis mine)
This portrayal of Christian fiction as an agent of hope — perhaps the only fiction “offering any [real] hope” — is interesting, and I think it captures the essence of what many readers expect from the genre. They want something uplifting, inspirational, encouraging, and/or ultimately optimistic. (And, as the article states, something “PG-rated”.)
So is this why the genre exists, to offer hope to those in despair? And, if so, is hope one of the primary distinctives that makes fiction Christian?
A couple observations, polar opposites of each other: First, there is an inherent problem with characterizing Christian fiction as “literature of hope”. Now what could possibly be wrong with that, Mike? Aren’t Christians supposed to offer hope to a dying world? Absolutely!
The problem with defining Christian fiction in terms of hope is literary predictability. In other words, if readers buy Christian fiction to feel good and extract hope, then no matter how bleak a storyline, they should always expect a somewhat uplifting resolution. Not only does this expectation hurt the genre (i.e., people know what to expect, their expectations are narrowed), it also hamstrings Christian fiction writers into more conventional plotlines. Furthermore, it overlooks the “darker” elements of our faith (i.e., that humans are depraved, do depraved things, and can ultimately spend eternity in hell). So while Christian fiction should provide hope, it should also be artistically free to explore the realisms of life without God. In fact, it is this grim reality that often spurs one on to a less superficial search for answers.
So I contend that, if we’re going to use the “Christian fiction” tag at all, we broaden it to include works written from a Christian worldview that do not rely on hope as an overt throughline.
My second observation is this: The reason that readers migrate towards Christian fiction during difficult times is because, when it comes to hope, the Christian religion trumps all other worldviews. Go ahead, call the PC police. The fact is, without God, there can be no real hope. The utopia of humanistic conspirations gets more and more unrealistic with every terrorist bombing and nuclear sub. Atheism offers nothing beyond a vapid existential buzz before eternal evaporation. Hinduism proffers an impersonal karmic cycle when, after millions of migrations, we merge with the Soul of the Cosmos. Like it or not, the biblical worlview is philosophically congruent, jibes with the state of things, and is practically applicable to the human plight. No wonder people seek out Christian fiction during troubled times!
In the article above, editor Karen Ball notes, “There’s some wonderful secular fiction out there, but it’s not offering any hope.” This observation is not unique to readers and publishers of religious fiction. Some have suggested that this years’ Academy Award juggernaut, Slumdog Millionaire, was riding the reactionary tide against last years’ incredibly dark Best Film nominees. In other words, viewers wanted hope. Atonement, There Will Be Blood, Michael Clayton, and the ultimate Academy selection, No Country for Old Men, were all pretty grim fare. I liked all of those movies, yet it’s hard to not feel crappy after seeing them. (This is also why many feel that a better film, The Dark Knight, was virtually snubbed at this years’ Oscars — it was just too dark.)While Slumdog has its dark elements, it is ultimately buoyant. (But as I noted in an earlier post, even though the film took place in the dregs of the Hindu caste slums, it had to appeal to a more transcendent element, i.e., Destiny, to invoke hope.) Obviously, people are sick of bad news. We need to see a movie with a bang-up dance sequence once in a while.
But back to my point: People choose Christian fiction because it is more naturally grounded in hope than secular fiction. Call it subjective, irrational, pie-in-the-sky. Fact is, if the tomb of the crucified Nazarene is really empty, I’ve got a pretty good basis to end my book with a bang-up dance sequence.
So has Christian fiction cornered the market on hope? I don’t know. But if it hasn’t, it should.
Mike,
You also have to thank Gina for sending it your way. We were discussing the article on the phone this morning, and she said, ‘you really ought to send that Mike.’ She was right. So I did.
As hoped for, you delivered an interesting and thought provoking post.
Two thoughts:
First, what kind of hope do they mean? Often, when people say “uplifting,” they mean a happily-ever-after in a certain way–the guy gets the girl, the business succeeds, etc. Christian hope has a happily-ever-after, but it may not feel that way in this life. Or, there is hope despite the tragedy, through the tragedy, knowing the tragedy will be righted in the end (but that end may not come for a long time).
Second, does every book have to present the gospel in its entirety? (Which, let me say upfront, is impossible.) So to your point, can’t we have books that look more like the book of Judges–a tragedy, in other words–and still reflect a Christian belief? We can’t present every facet of Christianity in every book.
Heather, those are both fantastic points! Biblical hope is way different than “worldly hope,” for it transcends even death (a point I recall Scripture making occasionally). Christian fiction becomes predictable — and maybe even worldly — when it packages hope too tidily.
And to your point about every book having to present the gospel in its entirety. Last I checked, hermeneutics requires reading the Bible as a whole. We must be cautious about taking things out of context. If we don’t read Leviticus in light of Galations or Romans or the Gospel of Mark, we will be in a world of hurt. Likewise, we should interpret Christian fiction in light of the larger body of Christian doctrine, rather than expect every book to contain all Christian doctrine.
The recurrent phrase in the Book of Judges is “every man did that which was right in his own eyes.” The result? Bad men ruled them. This is as much a part of the Christian worldview as is life after death. But I’d venture to say that a Christian who sought to leave their reader with just that conclusion — narcissism, self-indulgence, egoism and gluttony lead to ruin — would have a hard sell in today’s religious market.
Thanks for the insightful comments…
“So has Christian fiction cornered the market on hope? I don’t know. But if it hasn’t, it should.”
Amen, Mike.
Mike, I think you’re right on. Christian fiction is about hope becausethe Christian message — the gospel — is about hope. It’s not about hope because it ties up a story in a nice happy ending — at least a happy ending in this world.
One novel that comes to mind — Taylor Field’s “Squat” — is a pretty bleak work, but is indeed ultimately about hope because it is ultimately about the hope of Christ. But I don’t think it would qualify as the kind of novel the newspaper article describes that we would turn to when economic times are hard (about the homeless and the mental illness and violence they experience in their everyday existence).
I think we buy Christian fiction in bad economic times for the same reason we buy it in good economic times — to read a good story, to be entertained, to be challenged, to be provoked, to read a good writer. And we know that “Christian fiction” is ultimately about hope, no matter what the story line is, because we and what we believe are ultimately about hope.
I don’t define hope as the American dream of the happy ending. In fact, I think we confuse the gospel too much with the “American gospel.” Look at what we did with “The Prayer of Jabez” just a few years ago.