Religion in Speculative Fiction

I’m currently working on two projects (both that will hopefully become novels if I can stick with them...big IF). One of them is science fiction, the other is a novel-length retelling on a fairy tale. One of the things that I am really wrestling with is how I want to incorporate religion into the worlds I’m creating.

As a Christian, it is impossible for me to conceive of or believe in a universe without a creator God who is holy, just, loving, sovereign, and involved. But I don’t really want to write an allegory or even a book that is explicitly Christian. For one thing, neither of my stories take place in our world and if there is another world out there where God has created sentient life the way He reveals Himself to that world wouldn't necessarily be the way He has revealed Himself here. For another, I want my writing to be read and enjoyed by people of all kinds of belief systems.

So my challenge is writing a book that read true with explicitly stating truths.

That being said, spec. fiction where no religion exists rings so false to me. (I’m looking at you Suzanne Collins, Anne McCaffery, and I know someone will argue with me but- JK Rowling). I really loved certain aspects of all of these authors but I was still left feeling like there was something missing. Especially in dystopian worlds, people would cling to religion (even if it’s one I would consider untrue.) If the author is himself nonreligious, I think that including religion adds another layer of depth to the world (not nessecarily playing a direct role in plot). It doesn’t have to be a complete religion, just a sort of makeshift mythology makes the culture much more believable (like in Wool, for instance).

Some examples of speculative fiction that I love where religion is explicitly included in the story: CS Lewis, Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn Trilogy, Orson Scott Card, even a lot of classic horror like Dracula and Frankenstein include some really deep religious references.

But there are certainly some REALLY bad examples of including religion too explicitly. Tolkien actually put Narnia in this category (I respectfully disagree :-) ). The way Stephenie Meyer included it in Twilight felt forced to me (as did some other aspects of her books lol). I’ve also read some pretty bad fiction that is marketed specifically to Christians, which really put me off the whole genre. (Some is great though, just not all of it). I’m also reading Brandon Sanderson’s Elantris and I think it may belong in this category. He has some really interesting ideas but I feel like there is too much religion. I’m just not interested enough to read about four or five imaginary religious sects warring with each other.

And then there are plenty of series that include several religions simply to make the universe plausible (like Dune) but that’s not really what I wrestling with.

I really love the way that Patrick Rothfuss is dealing with religion in his Kingkiller Chronicles. He’s using characters from his world’s Mythology/religion and actually involving them in the story, thereby taking religion from merely being one of many aspects of a realistic culture and making it real in his universe. I’m leaning toward this strategy in my sci-fi universe, if only I can come up with a way to make it different enough from what he is doing. Of course, one of the hesitations I have with the supernatural taking a direct role in the story is that it would automatically take my story from the sci-fi category and into the fantasy realm in a lot of people's minds. Not that there is anything wrong with that... I'm just not sure it's right for this particular story.

Which of course, is what I believe about my faith, it’s more than just tales of morality to teach children to tell the truth and adults to be monogamous. It’s even more than origin myths and supernatural explanations to satisfy our curiosity and give us purpose. It’s real in the same sense that my breakfast is real. God is not just a force behind the birth of life, but a person from from we have all obtained our personhood. So I love that Rothfuss is making his Mythology play a direct, personal role in his main character’s life.

Of course two of my all time favorite fantasy authors are JRR Tolkien and George MacDonald, both of whom were truly masters of allowing the hope and holiness central to their being simply shine through their stories without having to be explicitly stated. I would go so far as to call them Christian Mythology. I think I’d include CS Lewis’s ‘Til We Have Faces and maybe the Space Trilogy in here too, although it’s much more obviously Christian.

Another author whose work I would put into the Mythology category is my favorite living fantasy writer, Robin Mckinley. She creates stories that in and of themselves read like a Myth, even though there is very little religion mentioned or even implied in her books. I have no idea what her personal beliefs are, but you close her books and pause with the kind of wonder that I hope to create. Lowis Lowry (and a lot of other YA and children’s spec. fiction writers) falls into this category too.

Another writer who is amazing at letting Mythology and religion enrich his worlds is Joss Whedon. He’s unique because he is a self-proclaimed atheist but can’t seem to get away from including super supernatural (haha) elements in his work. He recognizing the deep place that it holds in the human heart, despite believing it to be factually untrue.

And speaking of Joss Whedon...one of my favorite examples of the kind of feeling I want to create is actually in comic books and movies: the world of superheroes. They really are modern Myths. The best depictions of superheroes leave a feeling of joy and wonder and inspiration. They create an excitement and curiosity about the universe and the supernatural. A lot of them include some of the oldest themes in storytelling, the Messiah story being the most obvious and meaningful. A being so  strong and worthy fighting and dying for the helpless and ungrateful.  Of course there are some really terrible examples of superheroes too. I’m looking at you X-men Last Stand.

So yeah, I’m thinking a lot about how exactly I want to include religion in my books. The best outcome I suppose would be if I could simply write the story that I want to write and hope that some small version of the Eternal Story shines through all my grammatical errors. I think that will probably work for the fairy tale retelling, but the science fiction story is SOOOOOO complex. The more I work, the more I realize I need to come up with a semi-plausible system of religion, politics, starflight… heck, I even need to create the kind of food they eat. It is so overwhelming.

Attempting to get this story onto paper is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m losing sleep and forgetting to eat. So I'm sure I'll be back to hash out more of the things that are making me crazy. Stick around and you may even get a sample of the actual stories.

“This is how you do it, you sit down at the keyboard and put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and it’s that hard.” Neil Gaiman

Ships at sea

Another writing exercise. Man, I'm rusty.

"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board."(2) And as Gent watched the harbour he wished with all of his heart, not for the treasure that may or may not be on board one of the ships, but to be aboard the ship himself.

'If only they would take me. Not likely. The Screit men who owned all of the shipping companies here would never hire a barbarian like me.' Gent could taste the bitterness. This colony was beautiful but there was a price to be paid. Marma never seemed to notice, she was just glad to be away from the constant filthy human traffic of Allorin. The transporter that brought them had been filled with the Screit upper class. The caste system had technically been abolished a century ago; but out here, so far from the up and coming capital, old bloodlines still ran true. And the upper class all looked related to Gent. Their pinched noses always suggested foul surroundings... like they were born to be the snooty aristocrats that they grew up to be.

'I wonder if there are any uninhabited places on this world... All I've seen so far are established Screit communities or overrun tourist hot spots. Or maybe I could join a farming community and live among the lowest Difeen... where I belong.'

He slung the string of Haitun over his shoulder and made his way past the other fisherman his footsteps loud on the hollow metal tubes that made up the swaying dock. Trying to ignore the open stares at his foreign features. He looked up and saw Sewl rising in the west, and quickened his step. Marma would be ready to go to market and would want the fish to sell. Most of the fishing done on Screitla was highly comercialized, but the Haitun were so soft bodied that the large, broad casting nets of the big fishing boats tore them beyond hope. And so, until an applied scientist solved the problem, independent fishermen still were in demand by the wealthiest of the city. They considered line-caught fish a delecacy left-over from a simpler time. It didn't pay well, but it helped.

"Hurry UP! GENT!!" The stars climb high!"

"I'm coming Marma!"

He ran up the stairs, Marma was waiting for him. He handed her the string.

"Good catch today?" Marma didn't have very much imagination... he could just see the days stretching out before them...the same questions again and again week after week.

"Yes Marma, and before you ask, no I didn't see anyone we know on the way."

Marma laughed her sweet laugh. "Ok, ok. I'll be back in a little while. Here." She handed him one of the fish,"It is a good catch."

Gent took the fish eagerly. He was hungry, and it wasn't very often he got to taste his own catch.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Marma smiled, "I'll be back."

Gent cleaned the fish carefully, not losing any of the precious, tender meat. He carefully placed it in a pan with a tiny amount of yerthia, his favorite of the local herbs that Marma tended in their window. He cooked it for only a moment or two and then put it on a plate and knelt at the table. He ate half and saved the rest for Marma, and then left the flat before she could get back and make him eat the rest. She was so thin, but he knew that she would want him to eat it, if he was there. Older sisters were like that. But he also knew that she wouldn't let the delicate fish go bad by leaving it for him to eat that night.

The Haitun wouldn't be biting anymore and the docks should be pretty empty by now.

2. Their Eyes Were Watching God
Zora Neale Hurston, 1937

A new beginning

I'm not really sure how I'm going to use this blog. I used to blog all the time. I'd write mysterious, personal, poetical sounding things and let people guess what I was talking about. One of the things I look back on and laugh at. But I'll probably end up doing the same thing on here. Its been a while though, so I thought I'd just start out with a few of the fiction exercises I've been doing lately, trying to be an "obedient servant" like Madeleine L'engle told me to be. Not me, specifically... although, in all my arrogant artsy-Anneishness, I'm convinced that she would have found me a kindred spirit if only we had met. Oh gosh. This already sounds ridiculous.

Okay here's the first one. A new beginning to a story I've tried to tell over and over. The one that always gets away.

in the land of goshen... where the four rivers meet.

In my name I am prosperous and no where else. Shen looked at the the paper before him. Unacceptable.
Re-do.

Reject if received in such and such condition.

Instead of starting AGAIN the assignment that he has completed twice already Shen typed those words into the empty space:

"in the land of goshen, where the four rivers meet, the grain waves like the sea. The Blue sky meets the golden sea just out of my reach. then I look and see a road. A earth-brown road, firm and smooth, making its way through the sea. A road through the sea all the way to the blue, blue sky. The wheat rubs against my legs as I make my way through it, pushing it aside gently, trying not the break the stalks. I get closer and closer. But before I can reach the road the sky darkens and black clouds roll in, more quickly than seems possible. They burst forth and flood the land.

I can't see. It pours and pours until I can't breath without choking. And then, right as I start to suffocate, the clouds roll back and the rain stops. Leaving behind broken stalks without heads and mud knee deep.

The sun comes out and beats down on me as I try to make my way through the muck. Even as I walk, I hear the grain crackle and dry in the heat. The mud hardens. I can't get me feet out. They are stuck fast, and I whither in the sun like the wheat.

So much for the land of Goshen."

It was a dream. Only a dream. Born of his parents strange choice for their fistborn. "We're not even Jewish."

Perhaps they thought naming him after a prosperous place would bode well for their his future.

But they were wrong.