The Spirit Ring, by Lois McMaster Bujold: A Christian Novel?

The Spirit Ring is a fantasy novel, by Lois McMaster Bujold, set in Italy during the Middle Ages. The book was a Locus Fantasy Award nominee. (See previous post for a plot summary.)

Before I discuss this book, let me mention two other important works of fantastic literature, both also partly set in the Middle Ages. Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn, was a nominee for the Hugo Award in 2007. It supposed that aliens came to earth in Germany, and considered, among other things, the possibility of aliens becoming converts to Christianity. It was possible. The other book is the Doomsday Book, which won both the Hugo and Nebula awards. In this book, a time traveler goes from England's near future to study the Middle Ages. She finds, among other things, a true believer, a good man, an unlettered, but devout and unselfish priest. Both books also consider the important question of where God is when things hurt us badly. I don't seem to have ever posted on Doomsday Book, a serious omission, considering the stated subject matter of this blog. Sometime, maybe.

One of my most important posts is "What must be Christian about a Christian novel?" In that post, I set forth six important criteria, which help me to answer that question, not always to my own satisfaction. That post has links to other posts, related to books by Elizabeth Moon, J. K. Rowling, and others, considering whether some of their works should be considered to be Christian novels. I have also considered that question twice, in relation to books by Bujold, here and here. I couldn't convince myself that either of the works in question were fully Christian, by my criteria. I believe that The Spirit Ring is, in fact, such a novel, and it is by a major author of fantastic literature, who has won Hugo, Nebula, and Mythopoeic awards -- so far, no other author has done so -- and has written both science fiction and fantasy.

Why do I say that The Spirit Ring is, in some sense, a Christian novel? (Lest there be any doubt, it is not "faith fiction," a form of literature which is Christian in world-view, but one aimed at a niche market, Christians. Bujold writes, and her publishers market, to those interested in fantastic literature.) Here's why I believe it to be a Christian novel:

1) Is there a Christ-figure? That is, does someone offer his or her own life for someone else, and, in some sense, to redeem that person? I would have to say no to this question. There are people who sacrifice themselves for the good of others, especially Thur Ochs, a miner turned metal worker who agrees to enter the castle controlled by Ferrante, an evil man, as a spy, for the sake of his brother, Uri, who, Thur believes, may be a prisoner there.

2) Is there belief in orthodox Christian doctrine? Definitely. Abbot (and also Bishop) Monreale is clearly a character who believes in the ability of God to redeem others. In spite of obstacles, he offers the spirit of Jacopo Sprenger, an evil wizard, a chance to repent while that spirit still has the power to choose:
"Jacopo Sprenger. Though your spirit is parted from your body, you still partially exist in the world of will. While your will is free, you may yet effectively repent, confess your sins and profess your faith; I swear to you God is greater than any evil you can encompass. Stop. Stop now, and turn your face around!" Monreale's voice was anguished in its sincerity.
He had ridden through the night not to destroy Vitelli, but to save him, Fiametta realized. (Lois McMaster Bujold, The Spirit Ring. Riverdale, New York: Baen, 1992, p. 341)

Monreale also offers the spirit of Uri Ochs absolution, and Uri confesses his sins, and his confession is accepted by Monreale, just before his spirit ceases to manifest itself in this world.

3) Is there monotheistic prayer to a Divine being? Fiametta, a young woman, is the heroine of the book. She is able to do some magic herself (so is Monreale). Both she and Monreale believe in the power of prayer, another orthodox Christian doctrine. With Fiametta, it seems to be prayer in emergencies. Monreale also prays in emergencies, but Bujold gives the impression that he is not only a cleric with some ecclesiastical power, but a devout man, and one who habitually prays. He is described as being on his knees more than once, and on at least one occasion, he believes that he has received guidance from God, in answer to prayer. It wasn't the answer that he wanted.

4) Does an important character express a relationship with the God of Christianity as Lord? Monreale doesn't say that, but he is portrayed as living in that way.

5) Is there consciousness of supernatural guidance? See item 3, above.

Fiametta and Thur attempt to temporarily place the spirit of Uri, Thur's dead brother, in a statue made using Uri as a model. Fiametta prays more than once during the process. Bujold doesn't explicitly say that their work is divinely guided, but there are several developments that are close to miracles, if not actual miracles, and Thur makes some wise decisions, in carrying out this task. They succeed, and their success leads directly to the defeat of Ferrante and Vitelli. Neither Fiametta or Thur have ever done anything like this before -- they needed wisdom beyond themselves.

6) Is there explicit rejection of evil, or turning away from evil acts by a character? Clearly, Monreale, Fiametta, Thur, and others, have rejected the evil of Ferrante and Vitelli, and Monreale seems to have a lifelong history of seeking good.

As indicated under point 2, an evil character is offered a chance to reject evil, which he does not take.

I wouldn't say that this is an overwhelming case for The Spirit Ring as a Christian novel, but it's close enough for me. I have never read anything by or about Bujold that gives a clear indication that she is, or is not, a Christian.

Lest there be any doubt, I do not believe that Christians should practice magic, even if they pray devoutly before they do so. Nor do I believe that the soul, or spirit, stays around for a while after death. Neither of these is orthodox Christian doctrine. And, as far as that goes, as a Protestant, I don't believe that it is necessary to gain absolution from a priest to have one's sins forgiven. That is orthodox Roman Catholic doctrine, but not mine, and the Bible seems to agree with Protestants on this, according to 1 Timothy 2:5. All of these are features of Bujold's sub-creation. The third item, absolution by a priest, was orthodox in the time in which the book takes place, and it would have been strange to have left out that part of medieval Christianity.

So why don't the other two features mentioned in the previous paragraph make this a non-Christian novel? Because, in my mind, they do not negate the basic world-view of The Spirit Ring. In The Shack, widely (although not universally) accepted as a Christian novel, the three persons of the Trinity appear as three separate and distinct human beings, or at least as three persons who seem to be human -- they eat, for one thing. That is not orthodox Christian doctrine, but it doesn't mean that the book is not fundamentally Christian. Both The Shack and The Spirit Ring have fantastic elements, and are fictional, and anyone trying to use any such book as their foundation for doctrine is making a serious error.

My criterion is not that there is no unorthodox doctrine, Christian, or not, in a book, but that there is some orthodox Christian doctrine held by one or more important characters.

Thanks for reading.

On August 19th, 2009, I did a small amount of editorial work on this post.

Voices from a Medieval Village

I try to read all of the Newbery Medal-winning books. I recently finished reading the 2008 winner, Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices from a Medieval Village, by Laura Amy Schlitz.

I suppose that most or all Newbery Award-winning books are unique, not sticking to some tried and true formula. That is true of this one. Schlitz, a school librarian, decided to help fifth graders learn about history by having them act the part of inhabitants of an English village of 1255. The book, therefore, is not divided into chapters, but into a number of monologues, two dialogues, and a few explanatory sections, each from two to five pages in length. (There are quite a few marginal footnotes, which allow Schlitz to use words that would have been used, that that fifth graders -- or, in some cases -- I wouldn't have been familiar with, such as sniggler -- a person who catches eels.) Each one of the monologues or dialogues was written to be read aloud. No character appears more than once, although some are referred to in subsequent readings. None of the characters are meant to be adult, although some of them are close. The ages seem to vary.

Schlitz seems to have done a good job of portraying the place and time she wrote about. For one thing, the role of the Catholic Church is prominent, as it was at the time. Time of year and time of day, as set by the Church, are used. One character is on a pilgrimage, and Schlitz explains something of what pilgrimage meant, and what it must have been like, in this setting. One character is going to become a priest, because his family has lost its fortune, but status can be kept by becoming a priest.

Most of the characters are grindingly poor, and Schlitz tells us something about dirt, insect pests, and disease. She also portrays the role of women, realistically, I think.

A solid read, although probably challenging for a fifth-grader, unless she is well-motivated. The illustrations, by Robert Byrd, are good, and look like they might have come from illuminated manuscripts of the time.

Thanks for reading.

Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn

Eifelheim, (New York, New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 2006) by Michael Flynn, was a nominee for the Hugo Award in 2007. I try to keep up at least a nodding acquaintance with some of the Hugo and Nebula Award books, so I read Eifelheim, and I'm glad I did.

The Wikipedia article on the book is here. I confess -- I wrote a little of the article.

I didn't really expect to run into two important theological questions in Eifelheim, but I did. Flynn sets much of the book in Germany of the 1300s. That seems like a strange setting for a science fiction novel, but the reason so much of the book is set there is because it's about aliens crashing to earth at that time and place.

Flynn hangs two interesting theological questions on the encounter between aliens and medieval Germany. The first is, "Where is God when things go badly?" (The plague is one thing that goes badly, in this book. See here for another post, quoting Eifelheim, and also quoting an even more celebrated science fiction work, on this question.) The second question is, "Can aliens be converted to Christianity?" Flynn's answer is "yes." Some of the aliens become believers. Some of the humans think that this is monstrous, and some think that these conversions are miracles of God.

There are some more typical science fiction matters in the book. One of these is communication between species. The aliens don't look much like humans, and they don't speak as humans do. So Flynn considers communication from both technical and cultural angles. There are twenty-first century scientists in the book, and there are considerations of cosmology, and of historical research, and they are interesting. (In case you are wondering how the 1300s and the twenty-first century get together, there is time travel. Actually, I think that the story could have been told in just the 1300s, with no significant loss.)

To me, the real meat of the book is Flynn's portrayal of a German village, set in the Black Forest, in the 1300s. He seems to have done his homework. The various characters, peasants, soldiers, Lord, and priests, ring true. Especially, their religion rings true. As Flynn put it:
I have tried to depict the milieu of the mid-fourteenth century Rhineland as accurately as possible, but that is difficult enough to do for early twenty first-century America, let alone a time and place where the worldview was so different from our own categories of thought.
For one thing, they took Christianity seriously; in many ways, more seriously than modern Bible-thumpers. At the same time, they took it more matter-of-factly. (p. 315, "Historical Notes.") Flynn certainly took Christianity seriously in this book.

It was a good read, and, as I have said, it considered two deep, and interesting, theological questions. I'm sorry that it didn't win the Hugo.

See here for a post on extraterrestrial religion.

Thanks for reading.

Two more good books by Karen Cushman

I have previously posted on two books by Karen Cushman, Newbery winner, and Newbery Honor winner.

I have been privileged to read two more of her young adult novels. One of these is Catherine, Called Birdy (New York: Clarion, 1994). As in the books previously read, the protagonist is a girl in her early teen years. In this book, which is set in 1290 AD, in England, Catherine is the daughter of the Lord of a manor. As such, she has some privileges -- for example, she can read, and has her own room, although she shares it with a servant and, often, with guests. She is aware that the villagers lack the privileges that she does.

The book is written as a journal, and each entry begins with an excerpt from a book of saints, indicating which saint is honored on the particular day, and why they are honored. Some of this is serious, and some is simply hilarious. Cushman ends the book with an Author's Note, in which she indicates that she has tried to look at time in the same way a person living in 1290 would have. If she is correct, they looked at days according to their religious significance, and, of course, according to the agricultural season.

Catherine, Called Birdy gives the reader a feel for the Middle Ages, complete with privies and fleas, and illnesses that can't be cured. It is depressing, but yet uplifting. Cushman has done her usual good job. Birdy does examine her faith in the book, but that's not the major thrust of the author.

The second book is more depressing, because it is written about Los Angeles in the middle of the 20th century. The theme is lack of tolerance. Francine Green, of The Loud Silence of Francine Green (New York: Clarion, 2006) is a student in the upper grades of a Catholic girls' school. The major intolerance is toward perceived communism, but the book is more subtle than that. The characters all see that Russian communism is bad, but some of them enthusiastically climb on Senator Joseph McCarthy's anti-communist bandwagon. Some of them, including Francine's friends, are grievously hurt by this sort of thinking.

There is also intolerance of independent thinking. Francine is silent, too silent. She doesn't speak up when she should, and she becomes convicted, in her own mind, of sinning by omission.

As I say, this is a depressing book, but the issues are real, and individual Christians, and the church as a whole, walk an uncertain line between tolerating independent thinking and rejecting thinking that isn't like ours. Thinking about that is good for us. It's a good book.

Thanks for reading.