As We Delight

I have, in the past, written on the nature of suffering, my love of novels and how these two tie together. I think there are various forms of literary concessions. Some take the form of delicate necessity, others take the form of pure delight.

When I refer to suffering, I am speaking of both the emotional and the physical, however, there will be little distinction made here in any examples provided. Both can be acute and crippling. But at this moment my concern is for the depiction of suffering in a literary sense, or more so, the uses of language in describing it. What motivates that language, and to what end.

I previously referred to transcendence as it relates to suffering in the novel Island of the World by Michael D. O'Brien. The story takes place in the Balkans during WWII, and the main character suffers immensely throughout. More than once, he falls victim to unthinkable cruelty, knows love and loses love, touches faith but is too overwhelmed by his own agony to continue in his pursuit of God. And though I was often weeping at injustices or enraged at atrocities, I found myself continuously hoping that the hero would find peace in the end, that God's redemptive power would prevail. I wasn't disappointed. The author never intended to leave the reader feeling empty, devoid of any emotion but a weak indignation at being led by false hope or to a sappy ending; rather, he intended to depict delicately and eloquently the true nature of suffering in order for the reader to, at the end of the novel, feel the full impact of God's grace and mercy in the midst of sorrow.

Then there is another kind of literature. I was recently enamored with the series A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin. I've always loved fantasy writing, but the fact that this was a type of fantasy series made for adults that focused on the very real human condition in the midst of a fascinating other world and time, made it that much more appealing. It didn't, however, take long for me to realize that the literature lacked any sense of morality, but I was so engrossed in the story that I couldn't stop reading, or so I told myself. Some days I would spend 5 or 6 hours immersed in the pages. But the further into the series I ventured, the more I realized that the heroes of the story were almost as morally repugnant as the villains. The line between good and evil was nearly invisible. But in the end, this wasn't what most disturbed me. I can't quite say when I realized it, but I began to sense that the author simply delighted in portraying each scenario in the foulest language, illustrating the most perverse human encounters with the most brutal violence imaginable. We tell ourselves that "for the sake of a good story" we'll read on. But one night as I was ready to open volume 5, I felt uneasy, almost physically ill. At first I wasn't sure why, but then I began to realize that what I was feeling was actual dread. It struck me that the emotional, mental and spiritual atmosphere that had been created by the novels themselves had begun to permeate every aspect of my life. I carried the book out of my room, and when I went back in empty handed, I felt relieved, at peace, almost joyous.

We are told to hate what is evil and cling to what is good. If a film or a novel cannot identify true evil, or if it delights in a hypocritical love, it is a danger. For as we delight, so shall we live.

James 4:5 Or do you think Scripture says without reason that He jealously longs for the spirit He has caused to dwell in us?

Colossians 3:1 Therefore if you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.