From Brenda Jackson’s comment yesterday:
Where does "Christian" fiction fit in my life? I read a thriller this weekend by John Gilstrap called Threat Warning. One of the best books I've read in ages. A few minor swear words? Yes. A little trash talking slang in a few parts? Yes. But filled with tension--it was so hard for me to put it down. So in the last six or seven years, the two really high quality (subjectively determined by me) books I've liked (the other being These Is My Words by Nancy Turner) were both general market fiction. So again that makes me ask myself the question: Why do I not find knock-my-socks-off fiction in CBA? Am I just mean and harsh? Am I a heathen who doesn't know how to appreciate the faith message? Am I still that sinful? Honestly, I don't know. In reading Threat Warning and comparing it to other books I've read in CBA, one of the things that comes to mind is that it seems for people who write for the general market, they feel freer to be more emotionally raw and real life. I don't mean gross or disgusting but it just seems somehow a book like that strips away the facades and gets down to real life without reserve or hesitation. Perhaps I'm just not feeling that same thing when I read CBA fic.
I think Brenda, to be fair, would reiterate that CBA fiction rarely produces her ideal tastes in novels. She, generally speaking, prefers historicals without the ever-present and dominant romance factor inserted into and overtaking most every story. So, for Brenda, there’s strike one against it right off the bat. (Don’t ya just love the cliché baseball metaphors?)
She brings up again (for those who follow the debates on blogs) the language “thing” evidenced in most general market fare, but she also wonders if those authors writing for the general market aren’t somehow “freer to [write] more emotionally raw and [true to] real life.” This claim inevitably causes jawing and jeering and cajoling from various positions within the spectrum of Christians who write fiction.
I haven’t had the chance to ask Brenda if she’s read Robert Liparulo, Steven James, or J. Mark Bertrand. Their fiction is on a par with any general market author in the thriller or noir procedurals. And if you’re looking for further quality writing, look to Lisa Samson and Chris Fabry, just to name a couple, for contemporary stories that offer uncommon storylines.
If anyone walks into the now defunct Borders or the still present Barnes & Noble stores, viewing the shelves and shelves of fiction is mind-boggling. Out of all those novels, is it genuinely fair to say, proportionately, the general market offers better work? Especially if your normal reading menu comes from that option and your Christian fiction reading is limited? Of course if you want to compare similar genres, having read from both markets, to make a quantitative judgment, then, yes, your opinion carries some weight at least from the fairness standpoint.
This post is in no way a criticism of Brenda’s quandary because she brings up legitimate points and questions. She can rarely find what she wants to read in CBA fiction and often when she takes a chance on a novel, it disappoints her. If she wants to read fiction, she’s far more likely to find broader selections in the general market. That’s a fact.
I think the strongest point in Brenda’s commentary lies here: “. . . it just seems somehow a book like that strips away the facades and gets down to real life without reserve or hesitation.” I agree that often CBA fiction struggles with this reality or we could even call it honesty. Sin doesn’t always dress nice and speak well. It’s filthy and vile and sometimes filtering it comes off as disingenuous.
I’m guessing what’s at the heart of this—and I could be absolutely wrong—is the desire to read stories which don’t hold back. Stories that punch the reader in the gut with the sometimes ugly reality of just right words and make them feel it for a ways into the story and perhaps all the way through to its end, not releasing the reader with tidy wrap ups or shiny characters or easy endings.
But to be fair to other readers, and this is also a point of consternation for some writers who wish them to be “different”—other readers prefer light, fluff, and/or happy ending little stories that don’t drag them to where they don’t want to go, don’t remind them of this dirty little world, don’t make their hearts break all over again, and you get the drift. And what better place to find that kind of reading than in the CBA market? Where “good” is king—or queen—and right prevails. (Although certainly not always.)
I think Brenda was being a little too hard on herself with her questions, but I understand her feelings. Vince Flynn is one of my favorite authors. He’s not the best writer in the library, but, wow baby, can he write political/CIA thrillers, and he’s created one of the best characters of the thriller genre in Mitch Rapp. To echo Brenda, yes, there are some language issues, some crude vernacular used, and some vile situations, but there is a necessary reality which flows through the stories and makes them unforgettable with super-charged experiences that have their own element of truth to cement their value.
Your comments are welcome, but here’s what I’d prefer not to see: bashing CBA fiction if you haven’t got legitimate comparisons from both markets in the same genre. If you’ve read a handful of CBA fiction and dismissed it without any further investigation, and you want to condemn it all based on that limited experience, sorry: your opinion won’t hold a lot of weight. Not that what you have to say isn’t thoughtful or has no value, it’s just not based on a reasonable sampling of the overall genre. Thank you for understanding.
And thank you, Brenda J., for always displaying your honesty and for your fervor and relentless search for good books.
Father, help us to understand one another, to not bicker about inconsequential nonsense. We have so much to be thankful for and so many more things of importance with which to concern ourselves. We’re desperate for you, Lord. No doubt about that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.