This is a hang-up of the Christian publishing industry that I just don’t understand. Don’t talk about sex. I can accept it, but I don’t understand it.
And sometimes I wonder who made this rule up.
I always imagine some confederacy of old ladies carrying Bibles in quilted covers like purses.
These are the same ladies that accosted the guy who was calling in late to Jack-in-the-Box. (If you haven’t heard that in awhile, it’s time to waste five minutes listening.)
But complaining about the rule doesn’t change the rule. Instead, like a good sonnet-writing poet, we writers who are interested in this bizarre form of Christian fiction must learn how to make the form work for us.
Jeffrey Overstreet has taken a decent stab at it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not slandering his Auralia’s Colors series with the implication that it is all veiled sex. The sex theme of this post is even more than just a lame attempt to get you to read it. In fact, for me it symbolizes the image problem evangelical Christians have in the United States.
We have allowed ourselves to be defined by what we don’t do and what we don’t talk about.
You want to write Christian fiction? Don’t use bad words. Don’t include sex. Make sure there is some kind of redemption.
I’m poking fun in part because I have high hopes for Christian fiction these days. I’m even back to working on my own Christian fiction project after several dark months of pouting over the hang-ups I have with the industry. And I’m reading Christian fiction again—when I can find good books. The fact that it is hard for me to find good books says more about my own pickiness than the state of Christian fiction. To be honest, I have just as much trouble finding good science fiction from the secular market. Or good horror fiction. Or good zombie-workplace podcast satires.
There are many, many things to say about Jeffrey Overstreet and his books. One thing I could say is that I enjoyed hanging out with him at Laity Lodge last month. But that would imply we are buddies when we have only connected on Google IM a handful of times. (Though he did IM yesterday to say he appreciated yesterday’s video. What a guy!) I could also talk about his nonfiction book Through a Screen Darkly. I cannot recommend this book highly enough for people who like movies. Or I could talk about how fun it is just to read a well crafted story like Cyndere’s Midnight. I care about this world. I care about these characters. And I like the ideas. The tone is somewhat serious—more Lord of the Rings than Dawn Treader—but it works.
So what the heck. Let’s take a closer look at an early scene from Cyndere’s Midnight that is hesitantly sensual. Overstreet manages to be restrained without being repressed. When too many books in the world these days are getting bogged down in the hyperbole of narrative love, Overstreet reminds us how effective understatement can be.
So here we go. Let’s review the “CBA rules for sex,” and see how Overstreet follows them.
1) Sex only happens in marriage.
Sex in the CBA can only happen within the confines of marriage. You might be able to get away with sex outside of marriage, but only if it is some kind of crazy perversion. Those are the plot options I’ve seen.
In the end, this is a rule that I can live with. The only danger here is that it implies the lie that sex outside of marriage is unthinkable—or always crazily perverted. Take a look at the statistics on teenage pregnancies and you’ll realize how much of a lie that is. Whatever you want to say about it, sex outside of marriage isn’t just a crazy perversion. In our culture, it’s pretty normal. If Christians dismiss it as perversion, we show that we’re more concerned about our own protective silos than we are about meeting people where they are struggling.
You might say there are better ways to explore the issue than through a narrative that stimulates the imagination in dangerous directions. But I say there is no better teaching tool than an honest story. This is the real danger of rule #1 for me. It leads to dishonest story-telling, which is its own kind of sin.
Overstreet makes it clear, “On their last evening before her husband’s departure, Cyndere sulked through their argument’s aftermath.” Emphasis mine. They are married.
2) No sensual descriptions allowed.
This is probably a good rule, if for no other reason than it helps us avoid horrible anatomical euphemisms that I hear about from hussies who read cheap romances. (Not that I know any.)
Still, the power of good writing is that it invokes the senses. But writing can do more than just invoke the senses of the imagination. The best writing evokes a literal physical response. This is why I adore horror fiction. Last month, I read Joe Hill right now. Some of his short stories make the hair on my neck stand up. Literally. It’s awesome.
Obviously, sensual descriptions make it particularly easy to evoke physical response in the reader. (I’m not just talking about porn here, get your mind out of the gutter.) I’m talking about simple things like an increased heart rate. Or a scene that can make readers hold their breath. When writing can do that, it earns a certain amount of credibility with readers. When the readers believe the story with their body, they will believe the morals of the story that much more intensely.
That said, sensual description is just too difficult for the Christian market to bear. And the CBA is in the business of selling books after all. We can’t expect them to disdain the market.
Overstreet solves the problem by misdirecting a good chuck of the sensual description. It’s brilliant really.
Gazing into the bedchamber fireplace, [Cyndere] stroked a black visorcat whose head filled her lap…
Cyndere bit her lip… Cyndere pressed her lips together… She reached for a poker and began to jab recklessly at the smoldering firewood.
These simple descriptions, combined with dialogue, ground the scene in Cyndere’s physical response to her husband’s imminent departure.
3) OK, maybe some sensual description, but less is more.
The minimalist in me appreciates this rule too. I’m including a long excerpt to show you how Overstreet does it. In reading this passage, hopefully you’ll understand why I picked up on the cat stuff above. I’m not just being weirdly Freudian.
A little more background on the scene. Deuneroi (the husband) is leaving on a dangerous trip. Cyndere (the wife) is worried he will not come back. The excerpt begins with Deuneroi talking:
“Your mother’s sending Ryllion with us. He can shoot the eye out of a rabbit running. He can chase down a fox in his bare feet. He can hear a flea on a fangbear. He’ll protect me. And don’t forget.” Deuneroi’s warm palm slid across Cyndere’s belly. “Your mother has a compelling reason to keep me safe.”
“She only wants a grandchild to extend the line of Tammos Raak.”
“But I want a child, Cyn, because you and I perform wonders whenever we work together.” He took the brittle charcoal from her hand and entangled his fingers in hers. “Don’t despair.”
She pulled her hands away, reached to massage the nape of the visorcat’s neck. A ripple of with moved under her fingers as she stroked the black-tipped fur. The cat stiffened at her touch, murmured in delight, and then eased back into sleep.
Deuneroi stood. … “When I go to Abascar, I’ll bring you something out of those ruins. Something worth saving. I promise.”
“Right.” She dabbed at her eyes. “You promise.”
“I promise. And then we’ll go to the well at Tilianpurth. And celebrate.”
“Will we?”
He knelt behind her, ran his fingers through her strawgold hair, and tipped her head back so he could look into her eyes. “Yes. Or you could just close your eyes and dream a little, and we could be there right now.”
When she reached up to pull his dark hair down around her face, the cat grumbled, unhappy to have been forgotten.
“Be brave, little bird,” Deuneroi whispered between their kisses. “Be brave.”
Whatever you think of the rules and the way I’ve described them here, this is a fantastic scene. It works because Overstreet shows us a married couple flirting with each other. We married folk know where good flirting leads. Jeff doesn’t have to spell it out.
He gives us a few key moments of physical contact to let us know to read between the lines. Deuneroi calls his wife a pet name. She dabs her eyes. He drops some innuendo about celebrating. She plays coy. And best of all, the scene includes the final joke of the jilted cat.
Wonderful writing.
Some other folks are posting about this book this week if you are interested. Sadly, I got left off the list. But I think I’ve been on it in the past when I didn’t post. So I guess I deserve it.
Brandon Barr
Keanan Brand
Rachel Briard
Melissa Carswell
Valerie Comer
Amy Cruson
CSFF Blog Tour
Stacey Dale
D. G. D. Davidson
Shane Deal
Jeff Draper
April Erwin
Karina Fabian
Andrea Graham
Todd Michael Greene
Katie Hart
Timothy Hicks
Jason Isbell
Jason Joyner
Kait
Carol Keen
Magma
Rebecca LuElla Miller
Eve Nielsen
Nissa
Wade Ogletree
John W. Otte
John Ottinger
Steve Rice
Crista Richey
Alice M. Roelke
Chawna Schroeder
James Somers
Rachel Starr Thomson
Robert Treskillard
Steve Trower
Speculative Faith
Fred Warren
Jill Williamson
{ 5 comments }
This is a tough issue, and you've handled it well (both you, Mark, in this post and you, Jeff, in your book from what I read here–I have not yet read Cyndere). I appreciate that not all are comfortable with sensual descriptions, perhaps because of their past or their personal struggles, or perhaps because of their own modesty.
But I also believe that books are not meant to be merely examples of Christian living (although some may have that aspect in them). (This, also, then raises the question: what is the ideal Christian life, and, as you said, isn't sex a healthy part of the Christian marriage?)
There's a deeper level of theology–dealing with suffering, evil (our own and the world's), challenges, joy, humanity, etc., and when we limit stories to moralities, we miss out on that. The book of Judges is dark. It spirals down and down until it ends with a nation rent apart in the same way a woman is. Song of Songs serves up sensual love and joy. It seems to me that this is where CBA is beginning to change (and I'll speak more about this personally tomorrow on my blog): Christianity in the structure of the art rather than just in the overt subject matter.
Wouldn't it be nice if we had a rating system like the movies? That way if you struggle with a certain area or are sensitive to it, you don't have to buy this particular book. At the same time, CBA could expand their audience.
Heather, you win for being brave enough to comment on this first!
I agree with what you said about our need to address deep suffering through Christian structure rather than Christian content. Excellent stories glorify God as much as excellent sermons. But honest stories NEVER preach. In my opinion.
The hardest part about writing redemption stories is not being able to fully explore life before redemption, especially if the character does drugs or is promiscuous. You do the best you can if you want to be CBA acceptable, but as a writer I find it confining. How can a reader know how much Tani (my character) has changed when she turns down a particular date if they can't get a peek into her attitudes and actions beforehand? I don't need to be graphic, I just need the freedom to show the readers how unfazed she was in certain circumstances.
Then again, it is a writing challenge that makes me work hard to say what I mean without saying it.
BJ, the first two essays from It Was Good (square halo press) deal with this. Great book, although some of the essays are uneven.
Your last sentence about understatement and indirect argument reminds me of Jane Austen. Essentially, the CBA publishes novels of manners. Now let's all go read Pride and Prejudice again… : )
I wonder, sometimes, how the Bible would read-revised- as a Christian novel.
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