O is for Okay Oke and O'Brien

What I read: The Bluebird and the Sparrow by Janette Oke

Janette Oke writes religious romances. They are similar to Grace Livingston Hill's romances: the religious context is clearly Christian evangelical but in a rather ecumenical way. Christian Light. People don't swear or behave badly, but there isn't a whole lot of theological discussion going on either.

This lack of theological discussion doesn't make these romances nonreligious, however. The books' problems usually center on the heroine's need to change her behavior or attitude in some way. She does this through religious instruction, and there is nothing unrealistic about the instruction or the change. The Bluebird and the Sparrow, for instance, revolves around sibling jealousy and the need for one sister to accept herself before she can accept others. It is a perfectly legitimate interpersonal problem that involves trials and sins and makes a perfectly worthy plot.

It just comes across as rather, well, flat.

Not boring. The book was an easy read. It made good points. In many ways, it was like sitting down to a long chat with a smart, down-to-earth aunt. But I was left thinking, "Why is it that religious fiction often can't capture the transcendental nature of religion?"

It isn't the subject matter, per se, and even if it were, religion shouldn't be any more off-limits to fiction than, say, romance. And it isn't that transcendence isn't felt by the writers; it is just so darn hard to express.

The counter-approach--writing that is filled with analogies and metaphors and Yoda-type phrases--isn't much better. Hesse may be a better writer than Oke, but I don't consider him more readable.

There are books that capture the transcendental, but they remind me of a line from Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy Sayers where Wimsey remarks that for some reason, good advertising copy is always written with the tongue firmly in the cheek. Sincerity leaves the copy sounding flat. Likewise, to capture the awe of a religious conversion/experience, the event more times than not needs to be approached sideways.

2023: I tried another Christian romance by Kim O'Brien, A Still Small Voice, which has several Christmas scenes. And oddly enough, I had almost exactly the same reaction to this book as I did to Oke's. 

I didn't reread my review of Oke before I read O'Brien's book. After I finished O'Brien's book, I thought, How am I going to express my reaction here? Then, I reread my review of Oke and thought, Oh, thank goodness! I already did. 

O'Brien is a good writer. Her characters are realistic and multi-sided, neither entirely good nor entirely bad. The problems are everyday ones. And her religious views favor a loving God who wants people to move forward with their lives.

And yet--

The religious conversations--even those in which God is mentioned continuously--struck me as almost incidental, as in, Now it is time to talk about reaching out to God. In truth, people don't necessarily talk about God on a constant basis, and when they do, they can sound rather like the woman I knew who turned every conversation into why I should join the union: It's raining. Well, you wouldn't have to worry about an accident in the rain if you joined the union! That is, the conversations can feel a tad...contrived, even when the views are sincerely held. (Platitudinous might be the more accurate term.) 

I found O'Brien's mystery novel, Bone Deep, which doesn't fall back on religious speeches to explain stuff, somewhat more religious and even transcendent in its final scenes. I speculate that one solution to addressing theological ideas without sounding as if they were being delivered by a machine is to tie them to specific events, scenes, problems, images: a faun meeting a little girl under a lamppost in the woods. 

Fiction books that capture that transcendental awe indirectly since the novel's arc is tied to a particular problem or image:

• Passage by Connie Willis--the Titanic as metaphor
  
• The Monk Downstairs by Tim Farrington--a new neighbor leads to romance
  
• The Path of Dreams by Eugene Woodbury--intervention in a relationship by dead guys
  
• C.S. Lewis's fiction--story always comes first
  
• Ellis Peters' mysteries--mystery must be solved
  
• The Great & Terrible Quest by Margaret Lovett--the return of a king