I posted over on Novel Rocket today on what readers want when they read fiction.  Or at least, I told what I want.

I tried to make a case for characters. I don’t care if you put in a message or not. I want to find friends when I read novels. I want to experience life with others. I want to share in their hurts and their triumphs. I want to be moved emotionally when I read fiction.

That said, I believe the best novels convey a message. Putting in a message is dangerous, though, because you’re going to offend readers who disagree with you.

I’ve been mulling this over all week and I have concluded that I am not completely put out with all messages I disagree with. The ones that really throw me and make me unwilling to buy more books from a particular author are the messages that are embraced or delivered by characters I love. I want the characters I love to come to the truth. This means the best writers—the ones with the skill to make me love their characters—are in the most danger of offending me to the point of no return.

I read Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia and I’ve never read another of her books? Why?

SPOILER ALERT. IF YOU HAVEN’T YET READ THIS EXCELLENT BOOK, STOP HERE, BECAUSE WHAT FOLLOWS IN THIS POST WILL RUIN THE BOOK FOR YOU.

Why haven’t I read any more Paterson books?

Because she’s such a good writer, and she made me fall in love a girl who later dies and who, as far I could know, was in hell.

I could have accepted that. Girls who reject Christ do die. I don’t worry about whether they are in heaven of hell. I trust God to do right. But the message that the main character came away with was that “God don’t send little girls to hell.”

Believing that God does right and believing that little girls don’t go to hell are two very different things. I hated Bridge to Terabithia not because I hate people who hold to an “age of accountability” in their view of salvation. I have Christian friends who share Paterson’s views on that. I have friends (and family members) who go even further and believe that no one goes to hell. They don’t believe in hell at all. I don’t hate these people. But I hated the book because Paterson moved me emotionally, made me love her characters, and then she tried to comfort me by asking me to believe something I see as contrary to Scripture.

The contention that children don’t go to hell couldn’t comfort me because I didn’t believe it. So I was left bleeding at the end of the novel and there was no balm for me.

If Jess’s father had said to him, “You don’t need to worry about where your friend is because God is wiser than you are and he’s more loving than you are and you can trust him to take care of this properly,” I’d have been an undying Paterson fan.

If the snotty six-year-old had said, “You should have preached the gospel to her when she wrote Jesus off as a lovely make-believe character in a storybook, but you didn’t and now she’s burning in hell and you have to bear some responsibility, but even this can be forgiven in Christ.” I wouldn’t have loved the story, but I would have tried at least one more Paterson book, probably.

END SPOILER ALERT

Paterson couldn’t write the story my way, because she doesn’t believe what I believe about God and salvation. She did the right thing, writing the story her way, of course. It’s all we can do—preach what we beleive. But what struck me this week was that her heart-wrenching story didn’t change my mind on this issue.

Is that because novels are unable to change minds, though?

At first I thought that novels can powerfully teach me about things I haven’t thought through before or they can take what I already believe and move it powerfully from my head to my heart, but they aren’t able to take what I believe in my head (about deep spiritual things) and change it from one thing to another. It takes Scripture to change my beliefs.

But I think there’s a little more to it than that. I think that truth is still truth, be it in a novel or in a nonfiction book or on a blog, and truth can change minds and hearts and lives.

What do you think? Are novels a good place to teach the truth? What turns you off to novels you read (besides poor quality of writing, I mean)? Are there authors you won’t read because their beliefs along religious or political lines bother you so much?

First Athol Dickson posted on Novel Rocket giving his opinion on how tough it is to market his novels to Christian readers. After that Mike Duran asked if Christian readers are dumbed down.

Mike clarified that he doesn’t think Christians are dumber than general market readers, but he thinks “readers who are accustomed to looking for a particular message in their stories are less likely to be good readers.”

Is it that Christian book readers aren’t good readers?

When I disagree with the message I don’t like the book

I don’t think I’m looking in novels for a “clear moral, message, or doctrinal statement,” as Mike and Athol suggest Christian readers are doing. The problem I have with some novels is not in the lack of a clear moral message, but in the grinding of the author’s theology against my own.

Preach no message if you like. But if you start preaching, be aware that you’re going to offend the readers who don’t agree with you. Why should we expect anything else?

Athol thinks he’s offending Christian readers by giving no answers, and he may be right. Sometimes the refusal to give answers, though, gives a message that there are no answers, and that, obviously, is going to bug those of us who think there are plenty of answers and man’s problem is not that he doesn’t know the answers, but that he doesn’t want to obey what he knows.

But if Athol is offending readers by withholding answers, he’s OK with that. He’s writing the books he wants to write and he’s not worried about having big sales.

This is as it should be.

Except….

Maybe we just need to find the right fish tank to swim in

I think if Athol is not meeting with wild commercial success that doesn’t necessarily mean Christian readers are poor readers and I’m certain it doesn’t mean he’s a poor writer (I’ve only read one of his books, but that was enough to show me that he’s an excellent writer). Maybe it means he’s aiming at the wrong audience. If he really is writing books with no answers then maybe he should be aiming at the Blue Like Jazz audience. Isn’t that audience more comfortable with questions than answers? They revere art, too, I think.

I’m not saying I think Athol’s view of God is lacking in any way. I haven’t read enough of his stuff to form an opinion on that (and I’ve never read anything by Donald Miller—so I’m not remarking on his spirituality, either). I’m simply saying that Athol may be better suited for the “I’m on a journey and don’t have many answers, but I know social issues are important” crowd, rather than for the “typical CBA fiction reader” crowd. Would that be the Blue Like Jazz crowd? I don’t know. I’m just saying…there must be an audience that will appreciate his stuff.

We’re just people, after all

In the end, I don’t know about Christian readers as a group, but I tend to think that Christian readers are no different from feminist readers or eco-friendly readers or pro-homosexual marriage readers or any other group of readers. Some are good readers and have thought carefully about the issues and others want their ears tickled and don’t want to have to think through issues at all.

Besides, radical feminist readers are disappointed when they are expecting a radical feminist read and they get something less, as are homosexual readers and every other kind of reader. Expectations matter. But that’s a post for another day.

I loved this article about a literary snob finding the joys of children’s books.

This blog is supposed to be about children’s publishing.

And that means it’s about hard times right now.

The good news is that, according to Chip MacGregor, children’s titles are on an upswing, with YA fiction selling well. Oh. Yes. YA fiction selling well.

Still, What’s-her-name, the cat person, or the rat person (who is she? the Editorial Ass person…I can’t remember what other people call her, oh yeah, Moon Rat–what does a rat have to do with an ass?) anyway, Moon Rat at Editorial Ass tells us all to buy books. Now don’t just gloss over that. Go and read her post. Because she did a very good job of convincing us to buy books. She gave lots of suggestions of when and where and what to buy. And there’s no question that if we want to keep having books to buy tomorrow we need to buy some of the books on sale today.

Buy children’s books. Buy picture books. The kids are never too young. You think, “Why spend sixteen dollars on a book that the kid is going to slobber on, chew up, and/or scribble over sooner or later?”

Here’s why: Picture books are worlds full of sight and sound. The colors and the words train children to love poetry and music and motion. The messages are usually good, too. But picture books are so much more than solitary excursions into art and moral lessons.

Picture book time is “me and Mom snuggle time” and in a flash it’s gone forever.

Don’t let it go without a fight. Pet therapy is a big thing in nursing homes. But did you know that baby therapy is just as big? Adults love holding babies. Snuggling with small children is as relaxing as petting a dog. And reading and laughing and sharing a moment of discovery with a tot is relaxing and inspiring, and it makes you feel good all over. It’s one of the best things you can do for yourself.

Yourself!

Not to mention your kid.

McDonald’s used to have an ad when I was younger that went, “You deserve a break today, so get up and get away, to McDonald’s.”

And I know that when I had two toddlers, Happy Meals and the ball pit were wonderful things. It’s nice to let the kids play in that big play pen, while you read some big people books.

In tough times, though, if you have to choose between a few Happy Meals on the one hand and one beautifully told and illustrated picture book on the other…
Hmm.

Ball pit full of other kids’ germs…or…Mom’s lap and Mom’s voice?

Soda and hamburgers and hyper kids…or…snuggle time?

What to do, what to do?

Lap time. There’s nothing in the world that can compare with it.

Speaking about what boys like to read, I just came across a press release on The Series of Unfortunate Events books.

But, you see, that hadn’t entered the equation so far. What is it that boys like to read? Not things that tell them how stuff works, and not books full of action and adventure, and not books with plenty of conflict. No. Boys like to read books their mothers hate. OK it’s not a scientific study . . . and yet . . . I think it’s as good a theory as any of the others we’ve heard.